


The Advokist and the Urchin

by WaterSeraphim



Category: Magic: The Gathering (Card Game)
Genre: Age Difference, Age Swap, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Mutual Pining, Sexual Tension, Steamy bathing scene
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-27 03:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20941691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterSeraphim/pseuds/WaterSeraphim
Summary: Bred from the bounty of glittering gems and shining wealth of the Orzhov Syndicate was a boy who dreamed to change the world. This boy was Tomik Vrona, a well known Advokist, heir and patriarch of the Vrona family. He was the second in command to the head of the powerful Karlov family and a member of the guild's trio of guildmasters, Teysa Karlov. Sixty years or so years of his life, he had been bent, broken and folded into place. All of his optimistic ideas of reforming the Syndicate have been brutally squashed, his hope was fading day by day.Now it was being reignited in the form of a young man named Ral Zarek. Stumbling into his life and signing away his soul in order to gain Tomik's help. Zarek was loud, boastful and completely ignorant to the role society expected him to play. Tomik couldn't help but be just a little curious, he desired just a little taste of the taboo. It was only a moment of mutual indulgence. It wouldn't hurt. Nothing would come of it. He couldn't allow himself to fall for his cocky servant when he had his reputation to worry about.





	1. Please allow me to introduce myself I'm a man of wealth and taste.

**Author's Note:**

> Came up with this idea and I had to write it, it's just too good. Tags will be added as the story progresses and rating will go up. Thanks to Jimaine for the editing help again :D.

The day had been dragging on with a stubborn slowness. It was not yet noon and he was already counting down the hours until he could curl up at home. Tomik was sitting in his office lazily watching his thrulls crisscrossing about his workspace. The small masses of grey flesh clicked and clacked as they ran about carrying scrolls and documents to and from. As the last heir to his family he received many thrulls after his parents’ deaths—more than he knew what to do with. And of course, along with them, came servants, properties, the estate, and a fortune that would make other oligarchs green with envy.

But the thrulls were special. They had been the one living (perhaps a stretch) source of physical comfort Tomik had had growing up. His parents—as loving and kind to him as they were—were spirits and couldn’t give him the physical affection he sorely needed. They could speak to him and they could touch him—in a way— but it wasn’t the same. Their arms felt like a cool breeze brushing over his skin, when they wrapped around him it made his body tingle with a strange buzz. It wasn’t that heavy, _ real _feeling of weight, but instead a light and fleeting thing that always left him craving for more. 

Thrulls were nice, they were always there for him when he needed them. They came in all sorts of sizes. Some were great for sitting in his lap while he lounged around and read his books, others were much larger and perfect for hugging with their big meaty arms and calm temperaments. 

That attachment to thrulls had carried on into his adult life. He felt much more comfortable surrounded by them than any crowd full of people. He found he rather thought of them like pets now. Not in the way his guild usually saw pets. Thrulls were more like beloved members of his household rather than toys to be used and abused for sick satisfaction. 

But for as much as he adored the undead creatures Tomik disliked employing the usual method of obtaining more. He didn’t like to hurt innocent people or enslave them through contracts and debts. Instead, most of his thrulls were passed down from his parents,_ were his parents _, or received through other oligarchs. Mainly they were sent as gifts to him in an attempt to earn his favor. As the right hand man of Teysa Karlov he certainly earned plenty of ass kissing.

Signing through papers, reading and then rereading contracts was about as much fun as watching the guildless sweep the streets of the tenth. He could only drumm up so much enthusiasm for sitting down and doing the same monotonous task every day of his unnatural life. At first, his optimistic outlook on the world had painted all his doubts with a blinding light of hope and excitement. Then the decades passed by and took that light and swallowed it whole. The thrill of finding legal loopholes and playing the system lost it’s fun, the excitement of solving fights with his words alone was now a dangerous requirement. After memorizing all of the obligations and debts that connected the Orzhov aristocracy together he ran out of things to do. Luckily for Tomik, he only had about 600 more years on the job, give or take. 

Deathless at the cost of becoming a ball of sludge, Tomik dreaded the impending effects of ageing. His body would slowly begin to decay and fall apart, only the brew harvested from the corpses—sometimes living bodies—of debtors would keep him from that fate. Decades ago, when he was young and bright eyed, he swore he would never harm another to extend his own life. 

But now… now he’d done it. More than once. His eyesight had already been bad when he was a kid and it was failing much faster than any other part of him. It was a result of the curse that haunted all of the oligarch families for their hubris of trying to cheat death. Tomik was one of the lucky ones, he only had to deal with blurry vision. A pair of spectacles solved his issues without much fanfare and he could pass as a normal member of society. Some of the aristocracy were born with organs on the outside of their bodies, dozens of eyes, barely living beyond a few hours. It was one of the big reasons why the old families were dying out so fast nowadays. Even though they lived so long, their children didn’t, and the further down the line, the worse the chance of survival. Families that weren’t among the tip top of the aristocracy started to marry into it in the hopes that it would help fix the curse ailing the major bloodlines. It did _ seem _to help, Tomik didn’t know if it would be a permanent fix or if it was a fluke of his generation. 

His parents’ ailments had caught up to them earlier than usual, even for being the heads of an old family, but for whatever reason it seemed to have skipped him entirely. Small miracles…

Regardless of the severity of his curse, poor vision that progressed into complete blindness was still a problem. If Tomik didn’t drink then he couldn’t see. If he couldn’t see then he couldn’t read and if he couldn’t read he couldn’t do his job. Without his place among the Orzhov he wasn’t much. He had few interests and fewer friends. Despite how much he complained about his work it was all he really had. It was selfish and greedy and everything he hated but he couldn’t submit himself to weakness. 

But his eyes weren’t the only reason he’d stooped to such a level.

There had been the war…

The lead up to it—trying to prevent it—it had not been kind to him. He rolled his shoulder subconsciously stretching the old scars. Five years of healing, but they were still thick and ugly like someone blindly carved away at his porcelain skin.

And after Vraska’s betrayal… well, there was certainly no way he could have counted on the Golgari for friendship. 

In the end there had only been one person he could rely on, one person who he had desperately tried to help—Kaya. But doing so… it had cost him much. He had wanted to believe that Teysa was changing her ways. That she wasn’t falling down the same dark path her grandfather had led. But every piece of evidence pointed against his hopes. Still, he didn’t want to lose Teysa. She was one of his inspirations, meeting her for the first time had motivated him to become a lawmage. He’d seen the darkest parts of her and he had tried, with all of his might, to remind her she still had a light inside.

Teysa was still lost. Tomik felt an uncomfortable fakeness when he interacted with her these days. He was lying through his teeth pretending everything was fine but things were not fine. It pained him greatly to see what his guild was becoming, what she was becoming, what he _ himself _was becoming. He dreamed of going back to his first years working under her when he was still starstruck and passionate and woefully oblivious to her glaring flaws. 

Tomik sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was forgetting his own light, slowly, bit by bit. He was giving into that same consuming blackness that permeated his guild. 

_ He didn’t want to lose himself too _.

But between his position advising Teysa and his duties as an advokist he was overworked and the joy he’d once felt was slowly dwindling to ashes. Then there were the debtors. He didn’t get many of them prostrating themselves before him, but the ones who did come his way were feeble and pitiful—begging for mercy and kindness. Tomik had a reputation as being one of the ‘good' oligarchs which meant they expected sympathy from him. Lately he was having a hard time finding any within himself. More often than not the borrowers would burst into tears trying to play on his compassion or the bolder ones would even try to fight him over their debts. It was exhausting.

_ Why do they keep asking for money if they know they can’t pay it off? _

Decades of broken promises and shallow gestures were turning Tomik bitter towards his guild. Teysa had sworn she would change things, to make the Orzhov less of a bottomless pit of greed.

Nothing had been done.

Borrowers were still abused and used like commodities rather than people. Any work Tomik had started with the goal of reversing his guild’s practices had been met with overwhelming opposition. He felt like he was stuck in a cage performing a song and dance so everyone else around him could keep singing along in blind obedience.

Tomik was growing weary.

A sharp knock at the door and a call from his assistant drew him immediately out of his mental monologue. Her voice wavered, which was unlike her. 

“Master Vrona? I’m here with a... client.”

_ Why the hesitation? _

“You may come in.” Tomik replied, fixing his glasses that had somehow managed to slide down his nose during his idle thoughts.

The large wooden doors were thrown open with a force that had Tomik raising a pair of manicured eyebrows. One of his smaller messenger thrulls was knocked away in the process, smacking against an adjacent wall with a loud wheeze. 

His assistant cried in horror, “sir! Please behave yourself-!”

“_ Good morning, Mr Vrona _.” Proclaimed a sing song voice. 

The thrull would be fine, they were surprisingly resilient. Still, he didn't enjoy seeing them treated carelessly.

A young man stomped his way across the carpeted floor into Tomik’s view. He looked to be around his late teens, early twenties, but decades among the Orzhov had taught him appearances could be deceiving. The fabric of his clothing was cheap and rattled with tears and stray hems. His shirt was nearly threadbare and his loose trousers had been patched so many times that they could barely be considered the same garment. His face was marred with soot and bruises and there was what looked to be a recent scar cutting across the skin of his stubbled jaw. Tomik had an excellent opportunity to study said scar because of how proudly the boy was throwing his chin into the air. 

Upon further inspection, the boy was much more attractive than he would expect from his debtors. Most of them were older and haggard, their faces pale and worn away with fear. This boy paraded into his office with a smile and an air of confidence he hadn’t seen in quite a while. A nice long bath to wash away the grit and sweat, a clean shave, and a change of wardrobe—something that fit him would do him wonders. His face was angular and sharp with high cheekbones and a pointed chin, almost elven. Tousled dark brown hair laid against sun roughed skin, strands of it cascading into his crystal eyes—eyes that Tomik had to stop himself from staring into. 

Rather than say another word Tomik’s assistant simply closed the door behind her with an exasperated sigh. He should give her a raise, she deserved one.

The boy stood before his desk chest puffed and teeth bared in a wide grin, proclaiming, “I’m here to make a deal. I-” He paused abruptly, his mouth hanging open. Tomik could feel the boy’s gaze roving over him for a painfully awkward moment then the stranger gasped and said, “_ W-wow _. You’re… you’re really pretty.”

Tomik had to stop himself from smiling, that accent was _ perfect _ and the compliments that came from it weren’t bad either _ . _

However, Tomik was expected to be serious and composed at the present. He forced a bored facade and asked, “Excuse me?”

The boy visibly bristled, shoulders raising, his face turning a handsome shade of scarlet. “I didn’t know that a big important Or-jov person could be so pretty… I thought you were all wrinkly and old.”

Tomik’s eyebrow twitched. _ That’s not how you pronounce ‘Orzhov’, kid. _

Resisting the urge to drop his head into his hands and groan Tomik instead maintained a neutral expression and asked, “should I be flattered you find me attractive or offended that you assumed that I wouldn’t be?”

“I d-don’t know!” The boy’s cheeks burned as red as Niv-Mizzet’s scales. “The first? I’ve never seen a real Or-jov guild person up close before!”

_ Have you been seeing fake ‘Orzhov guild people’? And still not how you pronounce Orzhov! _ Though to be fair his accent was quite thick and Tomik couldn’t tell if that was responsible for the strange pronunciation or if he actually had a lack of understanding on the subject.

Another oligarch would have had the boy thrown out from that grand entrance alone, but Tomik was not just any oligarch. He still saw the value in individuals outside of what they could do for him. Or at least he believed he did. That, and the pure moxy it had taken intrigued him.

Tomik leaned forward curious, studying the boy, _ all of this is certainly unusual _. Steepling his fingers, he replied, “please, back to why you’re here. And may I have your name sir…?” 

“Ral Zarek.” He smirked, eyes flashing with a glint of mischief. 

_ I don’t know if I want to slap you across the face or take you home with me. Zarek looks like every protagonist in every rags to riches story I’ve ever read. I half expect him to burst into song. _

Behind Zarek the dutiful little thrulls went to work welcoming their master’s client. Within a few moments one of the grey creatures was approaching with a cushioned chair. 

“Please sit, Mister Zarek.” Tomik smiled warmly and gestured to the seat now positioned behind Zarek. It pleased him to see that the boy actually did as he was told, flopping down casually. What didn’t please him was how he threw his old boots up on Tomik’s pristine desk. As fascinating as he found the boy _ this _ ... this was a test of his patience. _ He has to be doing this on purpose. No one is this oblivious to decorum. _

Zarek’s smile faltered slightly as one of the thrulls hopped into Tomik’s lap and settled between his arms. It chirped like a bird, curling into a ball on top of his crossed legs. When Tomik ran his hand along the grey creature’s back it arched up in delight and squealed loudly.

Tomik’s eyes never left Zarek’s gaze. He watched as the boy’s expression turned progressively more and more queasy and he awkwardly fidgeted with his ratty collar. This was most likely the first time he was seeing a thrull up close. _ Not a fan of the undead then, it seems. _

“Please, explain to me why you’ve barged into my office in such a_ polite _ manner, Mister Zarek.” 

He cleared his throat and sprang into his defense, speaking as fast as a goblin hyped up on coffee. “I need your money in order to get into the Izzet. I’ve managed so far with scraps from junkyards, using my own magic to power it but that can only get me so much. With some funding I can build something to really impress the League, and-”

_ This boy has no modicum of formality. _

Tomik put up his hand cutting the boy's words. “I’m going to stop you before exhaust yourself, Mister Zarek. Why exactly should I help you? What do I gain from lending money to a boy who _ might _ join the Izzet, who _ might _be able to pay me back? And why do I care about you being accepted into the League? What can you possibly offer me?” 

Tomik stood, still carrying the small thrull in his arms, and walked to the front of his desk. He pushed aside a stack of loose papers and his novelty guildpact inkpot in order to sit on the rich wooden surface beside Zarek’s boots. Tomik crossed one elegant leg over the other, poised and overlooking Zarek rather than meeting his gaze at eye level. It was a simple way to assert authority without even having to speak.

And this boy certainly needed the reminder.

“Oh.” Zarek’s cocky smirk faltered, Tomik silently mourned the loss of such a handsome feature. “I… I thought you were the nice one.” 

“I am the nice one. The nice _ and _pretty one.” Tomik raised an eyebrow, amused. But, it was a little strange. Had his reputation really spread far enough to be known by street urchins? “I’m going to be honest with you rather than lead you down a path in which you become hopelessly indebted to me. You like being in possession of your soul do you not?”

Zarek nodded, wincing. His knobby hands were fidgeting with the stray threads hanging from the sleeves of his coat. The fabric of that thing swallowed him up, it made him look much smaller than he actually was. 

“Then you should listen to what I have to say. _ Don’t interrupt me. _” Tomik growled. The sound wasn’t familiar to his own ears, this boy was bringing out a strange side of him he didn’t know he had.

“Yes, sir.” Zarek mumbled. 

“Now that you understand, I’ll ask again. Why should I help you?”

Zarek reached into his coat pocket—the one that didn’t have a massive hole in it—and pulled out a small device. It was clunky, the design certainly not to the level of professional you would see from the Izzet. But when the boy sent a small curl of electricity into the object it sprung to life. A light blue glow emitted from its core, and Tomik could hear a faint hum.

“I can do it, I know I can. I have the skills and motivation, I just need the resources.”

“You made this with scraps?” Tomik leaned forward, which displaced the thrull from his lap. Hopping down the small creature gave a sharp whine and curled up on a stack of important papers instead. Tomik wrapped his palms under Zarek’s, cupping the boy’s small bony hands with his larger smoother ones. Zarek tensed, pulling away at first before he exhaled and settled into the touch. 

“Yes, sir.” Zarek gulped loudly.

“This is impressive.” Tomik met the boy’s eyes and smiled. The tension in Zarek’s shoulders softened and his cheeks flushed a deep red. Perhaps it was from the unexpected praise. Whatever it was he was interested in continuing to do in order to see Zarek like that. “You learned how to do this all by yourself? You didn’t have any training?”

“N-no sir. Just me.” 

“Amazing!” Tomik chuckled, Zarek twitched again and the device’s blue glow grew brighter. 

“I built it on my way here, I didn’t think I could carry the original version by myself.”

Tomik had made many decisions in his life, this was one of the easiest. “I’ll help you.” 

Zarek faltered, “What?” 

“I’ll give you the resources you need. It’s obvious to me that you have what it takes to join the Izzet League.” 

“Really? Just like that? I haven’t even told you what it does. Are you… sure?” Zarek’s eyes widened. 

“Does the function of your device really matter? I would love to hear about it, but I can plainly see you have the basic principles down, the resourcefulness to create a working machine from scraps. I don’t know much about building or what it takes to do all of this… anything you say to me is going to fly straight over my head. ” Tomik offered a weak chuckle and continued, “Unless you wanted me to be confused out of my mind?”

Tomik didn’t like to reveal his lack of knowledge on certain subjects, especially not with a client. Zarek was different, so far he seemed honest, his entrance had been a clear example of that brutal honesty. It made Tomik want to be truthful as well. 

“No! No, I’m just surprised. A minute ago you were asking what I could offer you and now you’re agreein’ to lend me money. I thought this would take longer.” 

“I can see how much this means to you, Mister Zarek. You’re much different than the usual borrowers who pass through my office. Most of them don’t try to butter me up by calling me pretty.” Tomik chuckled again. He was doing that quite often at the moment. 

_ I still haven’t pulled away my hands. _

_ I don’t want to let go. _

Zarek sucked in a breath sharply and winced in embarrassment. Small jolts of electricity crackled over his fingers and jumped to Tomik, sending an unusual but not unpleasant buzz through him. “I wasn’t flirtin’, sir. I was just statin’ a fact.”

_ Ah, his accent… is cute. He must not be from the tenth. _ He had more of a backwater dialect, reserved for factory workers and hard laborers. It was rare to hear it so close to the heart of luxury. _ The mixture of our voices almost sounds like music. _ They worked off of each other, the low and deep drawl of Zarek’s accent played with his posh lilt. _ And I speak about as cut-glass as can be. _ It was easy to sound high class when you were, in fact, high class. _ I haven’t heard someone with his accent in decades… it’s a welcome return. _

“Now _ that’s _ flirting.” Tomik tilted his head teasingly and laughed. He trailed a thumb over the calloused skin of the boy’s hand. In part to soothe himself but also to stop Zarek from electrocuting him by accident. Yes, definitely for those reasons. Tomik certainly didn’t _ want _to touch him. That would be absurd. “Don’t worry, Mister Zarek, I respond well to compliments.”

The boy sputtered.

_ What am I doing? _Tomik thought, shaking himself out of whatever temporary reverence had him behaving in such a way. He was just so different, so taboo, the opposite of everything Tomik had been raised into believing was right. Something about him had Tomik drawn in at every little smile or adorably accented word. Still it was best to maintain some amount of decorum.

“Anyway, I have no worries about your success.” 

“T-that’s one of the nicest things anyone’s ever said to me.” Zarek’s face brightened, smiles suited him.

Tomik removed himself from Zarek’s touch, finally, and sat back on his desk. It was a monumental effort to keep himself away from the boy. 

_ He seems rather headstrong and chaotic, but he listens to all of my direct orders. I almost want to test how far that obedience goes... _

Tomik needed to distract himself from his thoughts before he did anything rash. He sighed and retrieved a spare piece of paper and pen, jotting down notes. 

“We should talk about the terms of this contract. I’m willing to lend you up to 10,000 zinos, my interest rates fluctuate based on a variety of factors including your income and history with the Orzhov. Since you have neither it would usually float around a 30 to 50 percent rate. However, since I’m not a monster I cap my rates at 20 percent. Within a year after your admittance to the Izzet league you will have to begin repaying me. Four years is a good starting point, three hundred zinos a month. You’ll be about 14,000 zinos-“

Zarek’s free hand was clenched in the fraying hem of his coat. “No… no I can’t. I haven’t even seen a zino before in my life! There’s now way I can come up with that much money!” he cried.

“Mizzium is expensive, and hard to obtain outside of the League. I’ll need to have it smuggled by one of my contacts. Not to mention the tools you’ll need to work with it, and all the other mechanical pieces that make it work. I’m not a scientist myself, I’m not sure about the extras.” Usually he would just lend the money and leave the person to figure out the particulars for themselves but… He found himself wanting a more hands on approach with Zarek. It was only because his little device had intrigued him Tomik told himself. Tomik looked up at the boy, and found him shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. He pursed his lips thoughtfully. “And while your magic is a neat trick, it won’t be enough to impress the Izzet.” But surely the boy already knew that or he wouldn’t be here, asking Tomik for money.

Zarek frowned, but didn’t respond. True he’d only just met him but that didn’t seem very characteristic of the talkative boy who had burst into his office just moments ago. Strange.

The mood of the room had taken a sharp turn for the worse and Tomik found he didn’t like it. Could they go back to holding hands again?

Tomik set down his pen and sighed. “If you are unable to pay me back, then I don’t know why you came here. What were you hoping to get from me?”

Zarek must have regained his courage to speak because he growled and said, “I don’t know! There must be some other way I can repay. You must want somethin’? I can build you stuff, I can work for you, I’m a quick learner. _ Please _.”

“No money, means no Izzet. You agree to my terms or find someone else to take pity on you. And good luck with that, I doubt that you’ll find anyone. I can’t imagine any of my colleagues would be willing to take a chance for a worthless urchin.” Tomik said flatly.

Zarek looked down at the device in his lap and muttered, “You’re supposed to be the nice oligarch, why don’t you understand? I have nothin’, no one, the Izzet are the only people who would accept me._ I need this. _” His voice wavered.

Tomik had reduced many borrowers to open weeping before, but this was different. It wasn’t Zarek trying to manipulate him or intentionally tug on his heart strings for sympathy. This was the boy’s heart, worn right on his sleeve, open and honest and in pain and Tomik felt… guilty... Guilt was an emotion that had been stamped out of him long ago. You didn’t last in the Syndicate if you weren’t ruthless. Weak competition was easily destroyed.

“I’m sorry.” Was this it? Did this little charade really end here?

There was the harsh scraping of chair against the floor that shot through his heart like a knife. Zarek stood up dropping his device onto Tomik’s desk and gave him one last look in disbelief. His eyes were wet, and his hands were white knuckled, clenched into fists. “I don’t need you. I don’t need your money. I can do this on my own! I’ve made it this far without any help, why stop now?” 

“Zarek, wait.” Tomik grimaced. There was another option. Not one he particularly cared for, but one he had used in the past. Zarek had honestly been the first thing in a long time to draw him out of his monotony. He intrigued and fascinated and Tomik didn’t want to let that go, not just yet. So if it meant this didn’t have to end… “I can-”

“No,” Zarek cut him off no longer listening. “I’m not goin’ to sit here while you insult me ‘cuz I don’t have any money. Fuck this. The Or-jov will never care about anyone but themselves. Thanks for nothing, Mister Vrona.” Zarek stomped back to the entrance of the room, not even sparing a glance behind him.

“Ral Zarek!” He shouted. “Get back here! We aren’t finished yet.” Summoning his magic he sealed the doors with a link of luminous chains. It wasn’t just being spoken over and ignored that angered him, but watching Zarek leave the room… It ignited something in him, something sinister and dangerous that he knew he should have better control over.

Zarek stopped in his tracks, hesitantly he reached out to touch the blazing white links. He hissed, jerking his hand back as he grimaced in pain. 

“Mister Zarek, please don’t make this harder than it has to be. Our meeting has not concluded and I’d rather not have to tie you to the chair,” Tomik said firmly and unclenched the hand he had used to cast his binding spell. The light rooted at the center of his palm, a byproduct of his spellcasting, gradually faded into nothing.

Zarek turned slowly, glaring at him with an untamed fury. “What?”

“I warned you not to interrupt me.”

“So you lock me in here like-like an animal?” 

“I’m only treating you in line with your behavior towards me.” Tomik said darkly.

“Why? What else do you want from me? You’ve made it clear that you won’t help me.”

_ I shouldn’t, I’m letting my feelings get in the way… but I can’t... The thought of never seeing Zarek again is leaving me feeling disappointed and I don’t know why. _

Tomik sighed and forced a friendly tone. “I can’t let you go without at least giving you a chance. Please, sit.”

“Fine. I’m listenin’.” Zarek turned away from the locked door folding his arms over his chest. He didn’t come any closer, much to Tomik’s chagrin.

“I put some thought into what you said. There is a way you can have my aid without upfront monetary payment. I don’t like to offer this but…”

The boy came forward now, stalking across the room and collapsing back into his seat. “Just tell me.”

Tomik frowned at the overly dramatic flop but the tension in his chest eased as Zarek came back so he chose not to comment. “You live with me, work for me. You serve me until you fulfill the terms of our contract. Legally, I own you. Your soul will belong to me. You won’t be able to end it unless I allow you to or until the time requirement is up. If you have any thoughts about disobeying me or blowing off the contract you won’t be able to. Physically, the magic won’t let you. I… have reservations about this. You’re young and you have your entire future ahead of you. I wouldn’t feel right doing this without your full consent and understanding.”

“Well… I don’t need my soul, if I even have one.” Zarek grinned, leaning back in his seat like a content cat.

“This isn’t a joke, Mister Zarek! This is slavery!” Tomik slammed his palm against his desk emphasizing his point. Zarek flinched throwing his arms up defensively. Then his expression fell once again and it sent a foreign sensation to settle in the bottom of Tomik’s stomach. The next time he spoke he did so softly so as not to trigger another negative reaction. “Please, take this seriously.”

“I know. I get it. I’m not stupid.” Zarek sighed and ran a knobby hand through his staticy brown hair. Tomik wondered if the frizz was natural or an intentional _ look _that the boy was going for. “I might not look like it, but I understand what it's like to work for fancy rich people. You’re much nicer and prettier than any of the others… They don’t like me much.”

Tomik’s eyes trailed down to the bruises and scar on his jaw. The scared reaction combined with his hesitant words were enough for Tomik to put two and two together. “They hit you?” His voice was slow and cautious, he had to work to keep the rage from his tone. He didn’t know why that made him so angry. He barely knew Zarek, but looking at the evidence of abuse on his skin made Tomik want to hurt someone. 

The boy averted his glass colored gaze. “Yes.”

_ Gods, what am I supposed to do? _

“I’m not going to beat you. I’m not… I’m not like that.” Tomik knew that it was a common practice among his peers, a cruel method of asserting dominance and authority. To him it was disgusting. Where was the power in hurting someone who was completely helpless and unable to defend themselves? How did that prove anything, beyond a terrible failure in morality? “I’m not going to beat you, Zarek. I can’t say there won’t be punishment for your misbehavior, but not without _ reason _. Not without an explanation.”

“I don’t know, I think I misbehave more than I _ be _ have _ ,” _he said with a casual smirk, shrugging off the previously heavy atmosphere.

“You’re quite the handful aren’t you, Zarek? That’s why I want you to be completely certain about submitting yourself to this, to me. I don’t want to force you into something you don’t understand.”

Zarek looked up, a hint of caution showing for the first time in those pale eyes. “Alright, then what do you mean? What am I goin’ to be doin’ for you?”

“That depends on what you’re comfortable with.” Tomik sighed and made a flourishing gesture with his hands. Suddenly a large wall of glowing, golden text appeared before them. “This is a generic contract I have formatted for this purpose.”

Zarek threw his head back in surprise. “Woah! How did you do that?”

“I’m an advokist.”

“An adbo-what?”

“A law mage,” Tomik explained dryly. “I specialize in magic involving contracts and agreements between people or groups of people. It’s useful, but nothing like your electricity.” Tomik smiled and fiddled with his glasses. 

“Really?” Zarek asked.

“Really. It’s very charming.” He watched as the boy’s face lit up from the simple praise. Tomik liked to make him smile, it sent a fuzzy feeling through his chest. “But back to the contract. There are some particular concerns I’d like to go over.”

Zarek nodded still a little wide eyed as he stared at the text and scooted his chair closer.

“First there’s the matter of how long this will last. This is more of a situation based need, so most of this section is empty.” Tomik flicked his wrist and a paragraph of text grew in size, glowing a light blue. “For now I’ll say that your servitude will end in ten years. Regardless of if you are accepted into the Izzet or not, you will have to work for me for that time to pay for the aid I give you. If you _ do _ fail, then we can renegotiate this _ if _that happens. In my opinion, it's highly likely you will be accepted.” He offered a kind smile but quickly refocused on the task at hand. “During the time of the contract you will still live and work for me after joining the League. We can discuss lightening your workload when that time comes.” 

As he spoke more lines of text appeared reflecting what he was saying. Zarek studied them curiously, nodding along as Tomik explained. “That sounds… fair. Only ten years, that’ll be over before I know it.”

“Even quicker for me,” Tomik agreed. Decades rolled by fast for someone who didn’t really start aging until two hundred. “Now the terms of your service…” Tomik did a pinching motion with his pointer finger and thumb which made the text reduce in size. Then he swiped through the paragraphs until he came upon the one he needed and expanded it. 

“What does this ‘service’ mean? What am I gonna be doin’ for you?” Zarek eyed Tomik with thinly veiled suspicion. 

“Yes, I’m getting to that right now-”

“Wait does that say i-_ intercourse?” _Zarek sputtered as he read the script floating in front of him.

“It is a common practice in these types of situations and I must cover all of my bases,” Tomik said wryly. “This section in particular is to protect you. Any breach of the contract between us is physically impossible, it’s magic will restrict it from happening. If I ever made any sexual advances or tried to take advantage of you the contract will stop me. I don’t intend to do so, but it’s important to include it regardless of my intentions.”

“Oh,” Zarek breathed. “Krokt, I thought… nevermind.” He nodded slowly and averted his eyes. “That makes sense...”

“You’ve no need for concern. There are many types of servants, but that one is _ not _ what I’m looking for.” Tomik gave a sympathetic smile in return and continued. “The work I have in mind for you is close to the position referred to as ‘ _ The Gentleman of the Bedchamber’ _. Duties include bringing me my meals, helping me dress, guarding my bedroom and providing me companionship. You would also be doing small tasks at my request such as sending messages or running errands. And if I desire, you will accompany me in public and in private to meetings and events both formal and not.”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound bad. I thought it would be worse.” Zarek rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s better than gardening all day.”

“Those are the main clauses I wanted you to see. Is there anything else you’re worried about?”

“How am I gonna be workin’ on my project if I have to do all that?”

“You will have breaks, days off duty. Your work for me will come first but you will still be able to build machines. Perhaps in the future I could even provide you a space to work. ”

“Better than I could hope for.” Zarek’s eyes widened in surprise. “_ Wow… _that’s amazing. Thank you, sir.” 

Tomik’s chest was doing cartwheels. _ Gods give me strength. _

“I should mention another issue.” He slowed, his words weighted with guilt. It was… not something he wanted to have to say. “You will be marked as a slave. It’s a practice I’m not fond of, but it’s the only legal way I can claim you as my indentured servant. You will be a semi-official member of the Syndicate. Even as a slave, you will have privileges given to you for being part of the Orzhov. It will also be the only form of identification allotted to you. With the mark you will be seen as my property which means if anything happens to you I hear about first. It’s for your protection... and it’s the law.”

Zarek shook his head as if to chase away his confusion. “Mark? Identification? What are you talking about?”

“Every slave to an Orzhov oligarch is required to bear a symbol that shows their status. This is oftentimes a tattoo or piercing. Something on the skin that isn’t easily removed or replaced. Medallions are reserved for slave owners. For both the marked and the medallion wearer it’s a status symbol. It’s up to you what you want, but you need to do it.” 

“Oh…” Zarek’s mouth was hanging open slightly. “A tattoo? I have one already, I can handle another one.”

“This won’t be like a normal tattoo.” Tomik stated firmly. “It’s like a… name. It’s magic that will show me as your owner. It’s like a spell thats etched into your skin.”

“That sounds interesting.” Zarek perked up, his mind must have already been dissecting how the marks worked. 

“I understand that they are exceptionally painful, much worse than a normal tattoo. If you really want to go that route then… I wish you luck.” Tomik frowned and pulled sections out of the contract. “I’ll have that done for you as soon as possible. And speaking of that, I expect you to arrive at my estate with all of your personal belongings by noon tomorrow. I’ll show you around and get you situated with my staff and the layout of my house.” 

“Tomorrow. That’s not a lot of time.” Zarek scratched his stubble absentmindedly. “I can do it. Um, where do you live?”

Tomik chuckled, “Just tell a carriage driver you’re going to Tomik Vrona’s estate and they’ll know where to go. Here,” he reached into a drawer in his desk and pulled out a leather pouch. Dropping it onto the table made the zibs inside jingle and clink against each other. “Use this to pay for the ride.”

“Thank you, sir.” Zarek nodded and reached out hesitantly, as if Tomik would change his mind and take back the money. He picked up the pouch and looked in, eyeing it in wonder. “This is a lot! _ Krokt _. I can pay for twenty carriage rides with this.”

“It’s hardly enough to make a fuss over.” Tomik shrugged and closed his desk drawer. It was simply the change he had on hand in his office. It was dangerous to carry around too much wealth, Orzhova was crawling with thieves. “Unless there’s anything else you want to know it’s about time to make your decision.”

He took a long pause to respond, awkwardly adjusting his position in his seat. “Well… hm. No. Nothing else.”

It sounded like Zarek wanted to say something, but was holding himself back. It must have been important, but Tomik wasn’t going to pressure the boy into confessing. “Do you want to serve me, Mister Zarek? Are you willing to submit yourself to me, and trade your soul for my aid?”

“Why do you have to say it like that?” Zarek groaned and slouched back into his chair with a _ humph _. He rolled a single zib between his index and middle fingers. Perhaps he was lost in thought or considering changing his mind or-

“Yeah, I’ll do it. You’re my master, or whatever.” 

_ Oh, that word sounded so sweet coming from his mouth. _

“Very well. Now, sign the contract and the deal is sealed.” Tomik’s hand glowed and sparked with a shining light that suddenly appeared in tandem at the tip of Zarek’s finger. He looked at it in wonder for a long pause, wiggling the limb and watching the light shift. 

“Mister Zarek?”

“Wha-” He jumped pulled out of his reverence, laughing sheepishly before standing up and aiming his finger at the wall of text before him. On the bottom line he signed his name _ Ral Zarek _ in a surprisingly elegant script. After he was done Tomik mimicked the motion as well, writing his name beside Zarek’s and sealing the deal. Once he was done the entire text glowed brighter and brighter until it shimmered away into nothing.

Suddenly there was a heavy pressure on Tomik’s chest, like a weight was pushing hard against him. His breaths came up short as he adjusted to the foreign tightness in his lungs. It was the contract, the physical manifestation of the deal connecting both of them. He had truly taken Zarek’s soul and it was now chained to his own. 

Zarek gasped for air in front of him his eyes rolling back. Shooting a hand out he braced himself against Tomik’s desk knocking over a cup full of pens and scattering them across the floor. He gasped again his other hand going to his chest. The effects of the contract would be much more substantial for him. Tomik had been told that it was a strange, almost pleasant sensation. A lightheaded dizziness and general high that felt like spiritual ecstasy. 

It was strongest when the contract was first sealed and began to fade after a few days. But physical contact would cause the feeling to flair again, a side effect of Zarek’s soul struggling in vain to return to its owner. For Tomik, the burden would always hbe there, even if he grew used to it. 

Tomik took in a deep breath and collected himself.

“Congratulations Ral Zarek. Your soul is forfeit, you belong to me now.” He smiled and stood as well. Offering up a pale hand, which Zarek stared at confused before realizing what it meant and joining together in a firm handshake. The boy gasped at the contact and Tomik’s skin buzzed with static energy, electricity rolling over their clasped hands. The crackling lightning faded away after they broke apart, but Tomik’s heart was still full of thunder.

“Soul is forfeit...” Zarek said, almost in a daze. He was definitely light headed. “Master Vrona? Is that what I should call you now?” He smirked slowly and placed a shaky hand over his heart. 

“Yes, I expect to be referred to as Master Vrona in public. In confidence simply Vrona is fine.” Tomik held his own trembling hand by the wrist to hide how much the electric touch had affected him. He wasn’t sure if he was numb or if it was just too much at once but it felt _ good. _

“Thank you... Master Vrona.” Zarek closed his eyes and gave a small, stiff and awkward bow. Tomik couldn’t help but note that the standard bow for his station as a slave was typically much deeper than what he actually performed. Usually slaves prostrated themselves on the floor and lowered their heads to the ground in complete submission. Zarek would be getting practice at it soon enough. “I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, bright and early.” 

“I look forward to it.” Tomik moved around his desk to stand by Zarek’s side. He placed his steady hand on the small of Zarek’s back and rubbing up and down in a soothing yet possessive motion. He swore he heard Zarek release a small gasp in response to the contact. Tomik walked him to the door which a pair of thrulls hurried to open. 

The two of them paused before the open door. Zarek eyed the grey creatures which stared back up at him blankly. He fidgeted with his collar and looked over to Tomik with a small smile. “Goodbye, Master Vrona.” Then he walked through the doorway and made his way down the long hall.

Tomik stood there for a while, watching Zarek grow smaller and smaller in the distance until he turned a corner and left his view all together. Tomik gave a click of his tongue and one of his thrull’s leapt onto his shoulder with a squeak. It rubbed it’s golden mask against Tomik’s collar, the metal clanged loudly and echoed in the open office space. He curled a finger under its chin and gave it a healthy dose of scritches. 

“Now for the paperwork.” Tomik smiled and shut the door. 


	2. 'Cause when you're standin' oh so near I kinda lose my mind.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ral’s first day on the job doesn’t go how he expects it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today was the last chapter of The Gathering Storm. What a ride. I’m going to miss hearing about the gang on Ravnica every week and all the character development everyone had.

Ral awoke to sunlight blinding his eyes.

He groaned in frustration, reaching up and rubbing at his abused eyelids. There was a painful throbbing at the base of his skull from all the merry drinking last night and his poor muscles were exhausted. Only a loose sheet was covering the modesty of his sweat soaked body. Not that Ral was ever modest at any point in his life. As he stretched his forearm his hair flopped loosely over his cheek and scattered across his forehead. 

Sighing in contentment, he shimmied towards the warm body pressed against his back in search of more free heat. Bare skin slid against bare skin and Ral could feel a telling pressure prodding the curve of his ass. He grinned and gave a pleased hum as a thick arm curled around his chest and held him close. How he loved having a big strong man holding him after a night of rough sex. The stuff of dreams. 

The promise of a warm bed and a warm body along with it was a much more alluring option than sleeping under the smoke clogged night sky. And that was given that it wasn’t yet raining sheets outside. His magic only helped so much when there was three inches of rainwater soaking through his old boots. Besides the weather, dangerous creatures prowled the back alleys at night along with dangerous people, and Ral much preferred to remain in one piece. He liked each and every one of his limbs  _ very  _ much and would be sorely devastated if they were cut off of him slowly and painfully. 

So Ral had a bit of a habit of finding strangers beds to rest in at night. It wasn’t  _ hurting _ anyone. It wasn’t safe for him to sleep in scrapyards or under bridges where the Golgari lurked. Those death obsessed recyclers had a habit of being territorial and protective of their brooding spots. There were also the gangs that prowled the streets of every district without fail. He had had a few run ins with their kind before, he managed to blow his way out of it with varying levels of success. On the positive side, Ral’s encounters earned the delightful pleasure of tumbling with a witty and handsome young man. It was a win-win for both parties, really. 

Ifan was a Boros skyknight, large and sturdy, capable of picking Ral up with one arm. He'd first met him at a bar some days ago and it hadn't taken long, or really much effort, before Ifan was letting Ral sit in his lap and buying him round after round of drinks. He was astonishingly easy to please, he listened to what Ifan said, mostly talking about his duties as a skyknight. It wasn’t terribly fascinating but at least he had a decent brain behind all that sexy muscle, both of which Ral could very much appreciate. 

They had spent an amazing night together, and he hadn’t planned anything past that but then Ral’s makeshift shelter was destroyed by some collapsing metal. He didn’t have the patience to build another one when there were much easier alternatives. He’d been staying with Ifan for the last week or so, the knight was easy company and didn’t expect anything out of him besides sex and that was being enthusiastically offered up anyway. Of course that all changed yesterday after his meeting with Master Vrona...

_ Ral stumbled his way back to Ifan’s place with his head in the clouds and his knees about to give out. Whatever Vrona did to him made him feel like he just got the air sucked out of him. His heart was racing and his hands were shaking like leaves in a hurricane. Guess that’s what losing your soul feels like.  _

_ Damn. _

_ Vrona had no right to be so easy to look at. With his soft voice and his broad jaw and stupid pretty face. Ral must have looked like such an idiot standing there gaping like a simic gooey fish eyed experiment. Oh you’re so pretty Mister Vrona. I’ve never seen a pretty Orzhov lawyer before. Krokt, I was supposed to impress him not make him think I’m some clueless whore. _

_ And Vrona flirted with him, how was he supposed to feel about that? And why in the hells was he so worked up over one man? Ral was better than this, he didn’t stutter and blush and lose his composure over a few honeyed words and hand holding. Why was Vrona different? Why did he make Ral feel so good? _

_ He’d never been complimented for his work before, not like that. Never by someone with real authority and power. He knew that Vrona wasn’t just being nice, he meant it when he called Ral amazing. Amazing! Dammit, I’m blushing again. _

_ He needed to stop thinking about him. There was no way that Vrona was actually interested in him in any definition of the word. Orzhov aristocracy didn’t fuck street rats. They didn’t play with anyone outside of their frilly golden guild and certainly not someone who hadn’t seen a zino before in their entire life. No, Ral was just another debtor for Vrona, another cog in the machine.  _

_ But then why did Vrona look at him like that? Hold his hand and act all delighted when Ral called him pretty?  _

_ Climbing up the stairs to Ifan’s apartment he swung the door open and the beast of a man gave him an appraising look before continuing to nurse a glass of what was probably alcohol.  _

_ Trudging across the room Ral sat down beside him on the arm of the chair. “Why are you drinking so early?” _

_ “Got a promotion. Why are you back so early?” Ifan wrapped an arm around his back and pulled Ral into his lap. _

_ “There’s a lot to explain,” Ral grumbled and rested his head on Ifan’s broad chest. “I think I’m a slave now?” _

_ Ifan spat out his drink onto Ral’s face. He grimaced looking up at the man and wiped away the stray droplets of alcohol splattered on his nose with the bottom of his coat sleeve.  _

_ A few hours later and Ral was drunkenly explaining every sordid detail of his meeting with Master Vrona. Did he really have to refer to him as that? Calling someone ‘master’ felt exceedingly pompous and overdramatic. Ifan simply watched amused and laughed at his expense, the bastard.  _

_ Another hour after that Ifan’s stubble was scratching against the inside of his thighs in a delicious friction in the dark of the knight’s bedroom. Ifan’s long curly hair was soft and perfect for pulling as he worked his mouth right there. Oh Krokt yes- _

_ A round or too later, the two of them were gasping for breath and collapsing into the soft mattress. Ral was too drunk to remember if Ifan had actually fucked him twice or if that was just everything blending together. He sure felt sore enough for that. His ass was aching and his thighs were crying in pain, Ifan was fucking huge and he folded Ral in half with ease. _

Thoughts of what they’d done last night were driving Ral back into old familiar desires. He liked being spooned for two reasons, one because he thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of arms around him. Two, because it allowed him to tease his partner, shaking his hips up and down rubbing himself against the heat prodding his ass.

“Ral,” Ifan grumbled, his voice was deep and scratchy with sleep. “If you keep that up you’re goin’ to get more than you asked for.” 

“And what if that’s exactly what I want?” Ral turned to look at Ifan with a knowing grin. 

Ifan snorted and raised a thick eyebrow. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” 

“Oh. Shit,” Ral groaned and rolled off of the bed, barely landing on his legs. “Krokt. Fuck. Fuck.” His body was straining with effort from the night before and he was working through one hell of a hangover, but he needed to find Tomik’s estate by  _ noon _ . Ral didn’t sell his soul just to be late!

“Good luck, storm cloud. Go get that sexy rich lawyer,” Ifan rumbled, planting his face back in his pillow and falling asleep before Ral could protest that he wasn’t a gold digger  _ thank you very much _ .

Ifan was sweet, handsome, smart, and willing to give him a nice place to stay. He was so accommodating and understanding and provided a stability that Ral never had before in his life. But no matter how hard he tried to summon deeper affections Ral didn’t feel anything for him. He could have stayed and tried to make something work between them, but everything with Vrona felt like a sort of end. Like he was closing a chapter of his life and starting a new story. Ifan didn’t seem to mind that Ral was leaving… it helped his conscience to know that he wasn’t hurting the man who had been so kind to him the last week or so.

Ral slipped his trousers on and tripped into his boots. Pulling his shirt over his head he swung his scarf around his skinny neck groggily. Turning to leave he almost forgot to take the leather pouch full of zibs, he slung the bag around his shoulder in a hurry. Ral practically rolled down the stairway, bracing himself against the wall so he didn’t trip over his own feet. 

Vrona had told him to bring all his belongings… the thing was, Ral didn’t really have any. Not besides his ratty clothes and whatever spare parts he was hoarding in his secret spot in Nivix’s scrapyard. Most of the pieces were too large for him to lug across the city, so he was only bringing what he was wearing on his body.

Ifan’s apartment was located close to some important Boros barracks which meant the streets outside were swamped with soldiers in shining plate. They paid no attention to the skinny man dodging between them in the crowded alleyway. It was up to Ral to avoid being trampled by the hulking minotaurs and massive giants that shook the earth when they stomped on by. 

_ I don’t want to be a Ral pancake. I’m already so flat. _

It was a dangerous thing, he was still lightheaded from his deal with Vrona and his brain felt like it was going to pop. And there was the slight limp to his gait that sent small jolts of pain up his spine. Not the best health to be traversing Ravnica in. At least if he got stabbed he could planeswalk away… or wait. Could he? 

Ral should have asked about that when he signed the contract.  _ Stupid.  _ He didn’t know if it was important enough to ask. Would he be stuck on Ravnica for the next ten years? Vrona had his soul, surely leaving the plane that it was on would be bad. Would planeswalking kill him? How would he  _ ste— _ borrow things from other planes now? 

A heavy step landed right beside him, he could feel a gust of air as the giant barely missed smashing his head in.

_ Right, bad time to be distracted. Save those thoughts for later.  _

Thankfully the tenth district was absolutely crawling with carriages for hire. He even found one that didn’t ignore him when he tried to get their attention. He figured a driver with those creepy fleshy grey things at the front would know where Vrona lived. Though it was a challenge to convince them that he actually had business at Vrona’s estate.

“Yeah right kid. Tomik Vrona. Nice joke! Where do ya want ta’ go?”

“I just told you. Master Vrona wanted me to get a ride to his house-“

“Really? Krokt, the hells he want with a twig like you? He gon’ fatten you up and eat you? Ha!” The woman devolved into raucous laughter for a good minute before collecting herself. 

“Vrona has my soul and if I’m late…” Ral shivered. “Here, he gave me this. Is this enough proof?” He ducked his head and removed the leather bag from his shoulder. The front flap was etched with the Orzhov logo and the initials  _ T.V. _

“Vrona got himself a slave, aye? Fuck. What’s the world comin’ to? He’s the last oligarch I’d expect…” She frowned and looked Ral over. “Though, hm. I see it now. He does like your type.”

“My type? What do you mean by that?” Ral rose both eyebrows suspiciously as he slung the leather bag back across his chest. 

“Oh, you’ll see soon enough, boy.” She tilted her head towards the back of the carriage. “C’mon then. Get in. Don’t want to keep Master Vrona waitin’.”

As soon as Ral gingerly sat on the cushioned seat in the hooded vehicle the rider jerked the carriage into motion. The cobblestone streets made the ride a very, very bumpy one.

_ My ass. My poor ass.  _ Ral was struggling to hold back a long series of expletives invoking the wrath of the heavens over the burden of having genitalia and then smashing them together for fun. 

Speaking of sex, what did the driver mean when she said that he was Vrona’s type? Ral could only think of one way that made any sense.  _ I’m not supposed to be getting my hopes up, come on! _

After a few minutes the carriage rolled to a stop.

“We’re here, boy!” 

Ral warily gave her his payment before he stood and stumbled out of the vehicle, landing onto the stone street. These roads were much smoother, the ride at this point had been nice and quiet. The Orzhov could afford to pave their streets all smooth and flat. His backside was spared a moment's rest. Standing up again shattered that peace.  _ Krokt if I’m late because of Ifan… _

He took a moment to reorient himself. He desperately needed it too, because when he looked up, he saw the true scope of Vrona’s estate. Ral felt like he was about to fall into the sky. Like most buildings on Ravnica it towered far above him, it was pristine white and glistening in the midday sunlight not unlike the rest of the mansions in the neighborhood. The area around it was lush and full of plant growth, there were so many well groomed trees and flowers that Ral couldn’t even name. Statues and fountains and huge glass windows painted every color of the rainbow were everywhere. Ral didn’t know where to look, he’d seen the houses of the wealthy before but Vrona’s was much more extravagant than the families living in Tovrna. This was the home of a family as old as Ravnica itself.

Ral took a deep breath and walked towards the front entrance. A servant at the golden gate welcomed him in courtly, then closed the door behind him. The path leading up to the house was paved with dark sparkling rocks, alongside the walkway were hedges that were occasionally interrupted by white arches draped with dahlia flowers. 

It was all very overwhelming to a homeless urchin.

The problems started when Ral tried to enter the building. As soon as he swung open a massive golden door a chorus of voices were shouting and gathering around him scolding him for entering. Three people were looking at him like he just walked into the estate completely nude. They were all dressed up in frilly flowing robes with colorful sashes and golden buckles. Ral felt like an outsider with his threadbare shirt and patched baggy trousers. His boots weren’t much better off either, they had to be adhered back together a couple times and the old leather was covered in scuff marks. 

“Sir, what are you doing?” An older man eyed him in clear distaste.

A larger woman beside him shared a similar look, she seemed to be dissecting all of his flaws. Ral wanted to give her a real show, a particularly  _ shocking _ one. “This isn’t the door for servants.”

“Oh no, this is your first day in’t.” Came the light voice of a young woman. She seemed much nicer than the other two, she offered Ral a sympathetic smile.

The old man looked to the younger girl. “Is this Zarek?”

“Zarek? Master Vrona is upset, you’re late.” The young woman placed a dainty hand on Ral’s shoulder. “He’s been waiting for you, but his morning was especially awful and I suggest you keep your head down. He had a meeting with Lady Cecylia’s parents about the-” 

“I’ll speak for myself, Ezelle. Thank you.”

She quickly removed her hand taking a step back as that smoky voice cut through the foyer.

Tomik Vrona’s presence was heavy in the room. The others parted easily for him, giving Ral an uninhibited view of the man who owned his soul. He was as pretty as yesterday with his fluffy chestnut brown hair and amber eyes that shone like honey in the light. His glasses were perched on his cute rounded nose, framing his face in gold. Ral found himself wondering what he looked like without them. 

Vrona was dressed in a pristine almost angelic white robe that emitted an ethereal glow in the daylight. There was a large gold collar around his pale neck that Ral vaguely knew the aristocracy wore in order to flaunt their status and wealth. Along with it were other small embellishments. A golden pin in the shape of the sun over his heart, ribbons and sashes of varying colors that gave his outfit that bit of a bold statement without overpowering the white. He even had gauntlet like golden bands on his wrists wrapped in rich purple cloths. 

Ral doubted that Vrona knew how to fight just by judging his appearance and the way he carried himself. There wasn’t a blemish or scar on his creamy skin, nor did he have a hair out of place. His outfit was unwieldy and would be used against him in a close combat situation. The draped fabric was an easy handhold and the golden collar would probably shatter something important if too much force struck it at once. The gauntlets were likely just a fashion statement.

Vrona had other people to defend him anyway, he’d probably never even feared for his life before the war, if he felt it then , barricaded in his fancy estate. There was a great difference between the man who fought his own battles and the man who sent others to fight for them. Ral respected the geniuses, the masterminds, the tacticians who watched their plans grow to fruition. But the people who fulfilled their own goals instead of hiding beyond others would always be held higher in his book.

Ral had never had that luxury. His kind were the first to feel the effects after the war—and during. Homes were reduced to rubble and bodies, both Ravnican and lazotep lined the streets. Many in his neighborhood had to see their family or friends die to those blue skeletal warriors. Ral had been no exception, very few of his band of childhood friends had made it. It was that night that Ral realized he had to fight for himself. No one else was going to look out for him. They had no soldiers or guards to defend them no high walls or armaments to surround themselves with. They picked up whatever they could use as a weapon and prayed,  _ please don’t let me die.  _ All he had was his magic and the will to survive, and he had  _ made it _ . Against all odds, a scrawny fourteen year old boy with a shoddy power generator managed to fight off Eternals and live. 

Ral realized he was staring at the man, having lost himself in memory, and lowered his gaze to the marble floor. He had the sense to feel some sort of shame in the pit of his stomach for disappointing Vrona. He said that he wouldn’t beat him, but did he really mean that? Ral hadn’t met an aristocrat in Tovrna who didn’t take their frustration out on him with their fists. 

“Zarek.” His handsome voice with its velvety accent cut through the air like a knife through butter, harsh and commanding. “Didn’t I tell you I wanted you here by noon?”

“Yes, sir.” Ral dared to look at Vrona. His mouth was drawn in a straight line, and his eyes were calculating, not in the judgemental way of the servants, but in the way someone would evaluate an expensive item or precious trinket—or less innocent than that even. Ral had seen that look in countless men...... right before he slept with them.

Vrona would never do that though. Of course that couldn’t stop his horny late teen brain from dreaming.

“Why were you late?” Vrona raised his broad chin— _ gods that jawline could slice through mizzium _ —and took a step closer. He crowded into Ral’s space, backing him against the front door, effectively cornering him against the flat surface. Being this close to Vrona sent Ral’s heart beating frantically. He couldn’t help but feel tiny next to the man despite the fact that they were roughly the same height.

He didn’t want to be so openly vulgar towards his boss on the first day of the job, but any excuse felt weak and shallow. Vrona had said he wouldn’t beat him...

_ Well, here goes.  _ “I was sharing my company with a friend of mine.” Ral could feel his cheeks heating up like metal after being charged with his electricity. A spark of something like understanding passed through Vrona’s eyes, but he continued anyway. Might as well dig himself deeper while he was at it. “He’s very… rough and walking is painful since he’s so large and-” 

“That’s enough,” Vrona snapped, a sudden darkness clouding his eyes. He curled a firm hand around Ral’s upper arm pressing right up against him. His grip was surprisingly strong for someone who spent most of his time sitting at a desk writing contracts. When he spoke his voice was harsh rather than controlled and with an edge it hadn’t had previously. “Zarek, need I remind you who you belong to?”

Ral struggled to breathe, something in the way Vrona touched him made him feel weak and he swore he was getting high off the heavy musk of Vrona’s expensive cologne. It enveloped him, narrowing his perception to only that of the man directly in front of him. The way those dark eyes stared into his, the firm almost bruising grip on his arm... Ral’s head felt cloudy, his mouth stuffed with cotton. He had to work through the static in his brain to remember how to speak. “You?” he gasped. 

“Me.” Vrona answered. His eyes narrowed behind golden frames with a dark intensity Ral hadn’t expected. He was close—close enough for Ral to feel his breaths ghosting against his flushed skin. Despite the strained atmosphere Ral found he wanted to get even closer, to press his body against the man’s and maybe find a side room to release the tension building between them. A blind man could see it. But even if he wanted to touch Vrona, he couldn’t. His arms were tightly screwed to his sides. They wouldn’t move, his body refused to obey his commands. 

A deep voice brushed against his ear an angry quivering just beneath the words. “ _ I don’t want you letting anyone else fuck you from now on, understood _ ?” Another hand came to grab the side of his face, crushing his jaw with a hold firm enough to bruise.

Ral wouldn’t have thought it would upset Vrona that much, hearing about…  _ wait… did he say anyone  _ else _ ?  _ Ral’s breath hitched in his throat, he tried to force air into his chest.  _ In and out, breathe, in and out.  _ Did Vrona mispeak or was he implying that only  _ he  _ would be allowed to have sex with Ral? Did he…  _ want  _ to make good on that opportunity? 

_ Oh fuck. Maybe I don’t have to dream after all.  _

Just as Ral was growing used to the man’s intoxicating presence, Vrona released his grip, pulling away slowly but not entirely. He was still tantalizingly close but whatever strange energy had taken him over it was gone now. The man stood before him now, every bit the put together oligarch he had been a moment before. Ral still wanted to pull Vrona in by his lapels and crash their lips together, fucking  _ contract.  _

“I told you to bring your belongings.” Vrona frowned, a look of guilt crossed his face before it was drawn into a more neutral mask. The change in subject was disorientingly fast, like he was trying to cover up for what he’d just said.

He sighed in a daze, everything was blurring together. Between the harsh way he had just touched him and the sudden almost dizzying change of topic it took Ral a second to realize Vrona even said anything, let alone that he asked a question. Ral forced himself to respond, “I don’t have any.”

“What?” 

“I don’t ha-“

“I heard you.” Vrona’s face seemed troubled now, his brows furrowed in concern. “It’s just that I don’t understand, you must have  _ some  _ things?”

“Nope.” Ral said slowly, popping the ‘p’ in a childish manner. It was an attempt to get himself back together, humor was a fantastic shield that Ral wielded regularly. 

“I…” Vrona started, then sighed. He ran a hand through his own hair and struggled with something in his head for a moment. “You constantly remind me how easy my life is.”

“Easy, I wouldn’t call it that.” Ral raised an eyebrow and offered a slight smirk. “All that paperwork would drive me crazy.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say it keeps me sane.” Vrona gave a low chuckle and murmured, “but I have the machine you showed me yesterday. You left it in my office… it’s something. You have something. And you have your brain. That’s more important and amazing than any object you could bring here.”

_ Amazing.  _ Ral’s eyes met rich amber, he could only find truth in that steady gaze.  _ He thinks I’m amazing.  _ The security patrol in the scrapyards called him a filthy rat. All of the Izzet mages he tried to appeal to ignored him because he was young, poor, and annoying. The librarians called him a waste of potential. The aristocrats he worked for called him a pathetic  _ ‘rain mage _ ’. Rain mage,  _ rain mage, no one cares about the rain mage. Who are you trying to fool? You aren’t special and you never will be. _

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice wavering.

Vrona gave a wide smile that made his heart swell. He was so pretty, it wasn’t fair! “Now, I should welcome you. I’ll show you around my estate. It’ll be good for you to see where you’re working.” 

Ral nodded dumbly. His head was still in the clouds, he didn’t trust himself to speak without sounding like he was an idiot. It seemed like he was getting off easy, and he didn’t know why. He’d expected a punishment, all Vrona did was give him an erection. 

Luckily his pants were baggy.

Vrona turned and lead him past the entryway of his estate. Ral kept his head shamelessly raised and met the eyes of the servants from earlier with a grin. He had completely forgotten they were in the room, and they were now looking at him with varying degrees of discomfort. They saw that entire performance between him and Vrona… Everything. 

He also wanted to pull the nice young woman aside and ask if Vrona had had sex with any servants before.  _ You know, just for a friend. Not for me. _

“So you’ve met a few of my other staff already. They’re a bit anxious at times but they don’t mean any harm. Most of them came to me after being abused by my peers. I give them a job they’re familiar with and a place to stay so they can get back on their feet. Some continue to work for me, others move on and become very successful.” Vrona paused and turned to Ral, giving him a thoughtful look. “I wonder which kind you will be.”

“Hopefully the second, no offense, sir. This…” Ral gestured at the opulence all around him. “...isn’t really my scene. I’m better at working with engines than navigating high society.”

“I know, I wouldn’t have hired you if you could. That would be boring.” Vrona hid his laughter behind one of his dainty hands. 

“Really?” Ral raised an eyebrow judgmentally high. “You made me your slave because you’re…  _ bored _ ?”

Vrona threw his arms into the air dramatically, the fabric of his robes fluttered with the movement. “Everyone is so boring, I’m tired of pretending to care about what Count so and so did last weekend. _ I’m sick of pretending _ . I wanted you because you’re new and exciting.”

Ral didn’t know how to respond to that. He scratched his chin absentmindedly. “Huh. Well, I’ll try not to disappoint you with my level of crassness.” 

“Good,” Vrona smiled and patted his shoulder. Ral almost tripped as his head soared into the clouds again. He would have face planted on the tile floor, if Vrona didn’t steady him.

Once Ral’s feet started to respond again he was led through a series of large open rooms and winding hallways. Not a single expense was spared, everything was decked out in valuable jewels and metals. One hallway was lined with mirrors, another was lined with walls of plants.

And everywhere they went Ral saw those creepy thrull things crawling around just at the edge of his vision. It was the one downside of the entire arrangement so far. Ten years of living in a nice mansion and working for a handsome man sounded like paradise to him. Paradise just happened to be shared with those awful grey fleshy monsters.

_ Speaking of... _

“What is  _ that _ ,” Ral gagged.

One of the grey things was hobbling along, it’s mouth to the floor sucking up any stray waste it came across like some twisted garbage disposal. 

“Oh, that’s Olive, my sweeper thrull. It likes to eat whatever it can find on the floor,” Vrona informed him very matter of factly, like everyone on Ravnica used a thrull vacuum and it was silly for him to question it.

Ral watched the thing slowly work its way down the hall in thinly veiled horror. Once in awhile it stopped and made a terrible wheezing sound before latching its mouth back onto the floor and powering onward. “Don’t you have servants for that!?”

“Plenty!” Vrona smiled and did not elaborate.

They took a short detour through the kitchens, the chefs were hard at work preparing lunch for Vrona and the rest of the staff. Ral’s stomach rumbled in sorrow as he watched a particularly muscular giant woman in an apron pull an entire roast boar out of a massive oven. The smell of cooking food was almost as intoxicating as Vrona’s cologne. 

Ral struggled to remember when his last real meal was. Alcohol didn’t count, and he hesitated to consider the bread he stole yesterday morning as a meal. He did get some food from Ifan, he brought back lunch to his apartment after an early morning call to quell a riot. Ifan had small knicks and scratches all over his face and arms slowly oozing out blood. That was maybe three days ago. 

Ifan would have gladly fed him had he known how hungry Ral was, but he felt guilty leeching off of him more than he already had been. He didn’t want to be a burden, or annoy Ifan into kicking him out of his apartment. He only took what the man freely offered and without asking for anything more.

However long it had been, it was too many days since Ral had eaten something of substance. Being surrounded by so much expertly prepared food was driving him crazy. His stomach was threatening to pack up and leave. Thank the gods he hadn’t gone overboard with the alcohol last night or else he would have been vomiting up acid all over Vrona’s nice shiny floors.

Vrona nodded and introduced Ral to everyone they walked past. A slender elf named Raelin was chopping up vegetables and mixing them into a bowl with some sort of sauce. Next to them was a petite woman in a frilly pink apron baking equally petite pastries and cakes. Ral could probably eat at least twenty of them without feeling anything. 

When Vrona said his greeting to the giant woman named Gora she eyed Ral for a moment and simply asked, “hungry?” Then she was handing him a slab of roast pork freshly cooked and dripping with juices. Ral couldn’t stop himself from inhaling the thing. Meat was an expensive commodity and he wasn’t about to turn down free food.

“Heavens… Zarek we have plates.” Vrona sighed, removing a brightly colored sash from his outfit and wiping the grease from Ral’s chin. It reminded him of his mother in an odd way. Though she had been much gentler and certainly wasn’t as handsome as Vrona was.

Ral grinned and shrugged. “I was hungry.”

“You should have told me, I would have gotten something sent out for you.” 

“Is it too late to ask now?” Ral laughed sheepishly, wiping his hands on his trousers. Vrona eyed the motion with a look of distaste. 

“Yes, eat. Make you grow strong.” The giantess offered more boar roast.

Vrona gave him what was probably meant to be the start of a stern glare before he looked away and laughed to himself. “You can have all the food you want. Not just now, but any time. The kitchens are open to you.”

Whatever that glare had been about Ral had no idea, all he heard was 'food' and 'all you want'. “You might regret that.” Ral snatched the meat from the giantess’ large hands and ate it just as quickly as he did the first time. He barely swallowed the last bite before Vrona was cleaning his face again.

“I doubt you’ll even make a dent. I feed my entire staff, a stable full of horses, and host parties quite often. I’m sure I can handle one growing boy.”

“Hey, I’m not a boy. I’m almost twenty! You can’t be much older than me, what are you, twenty five?”

“I’m sixty four.” Vrona said flatly.

“...right.” Ral felt very dizzy all of the sudden and this time it wasn’t because Vrona was touching him.

“Do you think me old, Zarek? Sixty four makes me the youngest patriarch to an oligarch family in my guild. I’m closer to you in age than I am to any of my peers. Teysa alone is over two times as old as me, you are forty years younger. In oligarch standards we’re practically the same age.”

“Huh, I didn’t think of it like that.” Ral ran a hand through his hair, trying to stimulate his train of thought. “So you’re really young for an oligarch then, Master Vrona? What’s that like?”

Vrona held his stained cloth in front of him and made a gesture with his hands. Light appeared from his fingertips and slowly moved through the fabric before fading away entirely. After the magic was done the cloth was as clean as it started out. 

“They treated me like I was a child until I proved that I was not. It’ll likely be the same for you, and it’s not without reason. People like me age slower physically, like elves. I’m over sixty but in reality I’m as young as I look. So about what you guessed… twenty five. Just another side effect of my blood.” Vrona forced a smile.

_ He sounds frustrated. His lineage must be a sensitive topic for him. _

“Interesting… do you have any books about how that works?” Ral didn’t want to force Vrona to explain something he wasn’t comfortable about. His urgency to make Ral feel like their age difference was minimal seemed strange. Why would an ordinary servant care how old their master was, unless Vrona was trying to convince himself of something?

  
  


Vrona nodded and beckoned Ral to follow close behind, leading him out of the busy kitchens. He mourned the loss of that heavenly aroma, but now that his belly was full it wasn’t as tragic as it could have been. “Yes, of course. I’ll show you my library later, for now lets keep going.”

Ral couldn’t help but wonder about one thing Vrona had mentioned. “So how about you? Do you see me as a child?”

The man stopped, blinking as if considering, then tilted his head slowly. “I’m… not certain I don’t. But I also see you as being like me, but then that would mean I see myself as a child and I don’t think that either.” Vrona looked to him thoughtfully as he adjusted his golden spectacles.

“That sounds like you’re overthinking it.” Ral laughed and went to clap Vrona on the shoulder but then it hit an invisible barrier. His hand was raised awkwardly in the air, the two of them looked at it with varying levels of amusement before Ral dropped the offending limb back to his side.

“W-what? Why can’t I touch you? This happened earlier too…”

“It’s part of the contract. You did read it didn’t you?”

Ral stayed silent.

“Really? You sold your soul and you didn’t even read what you were signing?” Vrona rested his face in the palms of his hands. “Oh my gods, Zarek, you need to read what you sign. Please take this as a lesson. You cannot touch me because I don’t feel confident enough around you yet.”

“Oh… I get it. You don’t know me. That makes sense.” And if Ral really did need to defending himself he still had his magic anyway.

“Have you seen my gardens yet?” Vrona asked, changing the subject as he led Ral down a long glittering hall adorned with massive windows and oil paintings framed with gold. It was much wider than the other hallways Ral had been through so far. It could probably hold the guildpact with enough room for him to move around without knocking stuff off the walls. 

Ral cleared his throat, trying to work through his momentary embarrassment. “Yeah, It was beautiful... especially the dahlias. I never saw dahlias in Tovrna, the aristocrats there never grew any. I didn’t know Ravnica even had them.” 

Vrona paused and turned to face him, his eyebrows raised. He opened his mouth to speak but seemed to change his mind, reconsidering his options. “What do you mean by that? Zarek... Are you…?”

Ral winced at his own lack of subtlety. Of course Vrona would pick up on it, he was a lawyer after all. Trained in the art of finding mistakes and loopholes in other people’s speech. After the War, planeswalkers were public knowledge. Just another oddity of a plane that was already beyond strange. It was not… unpleasant being able to say what he was without fear of punishment or scrutiny.  _ Did my comment about plants make it obvious? Well, here goes nothing.  _ “I’m a planeswalker.”

Amber eyes widened in horror. Vrona instantly threw his hands into motion and pulled up a glowing wall of text. His fingers rapidly scrolled up, rooting through the clauses for a specific paragraph. “Why didn’t you tell me, Zarek?  _ Shit. _ ” 

“I don’t know,” Ral mumbled weakly. If Vrona was swearing it must have been bad. He wanted to curl up into a ball out of shame. Ral didn’t like seeing Vrona like this. “I didn’t think it was important.”

“Zarek, this is bad, beyond bad, catastrophic even.” Vrona didn’t even seem mad, he looked  _ scared _ . His normally gentle brown eyes were darting in a frenzied panic. When they momentarily passed over Ral he could see Vrona looking at  _ him  _ with fear. “Do you realize the gravity of this?”

Ral winced and shook his head. 

He adjusted his glasses, likely in a makeshift attempt to put himself together. “Oh gods. Let me start with an explanation. Do you know how planeswalking works?”

Silence.  _ Should I know? It just kind of happened and I’ve been following my instincts ever since.  _

Vrona grabbed a fistful of his own hair and groaned, “You don’t know how you transport yourself across universes? How? How is that something you don’t question?”

“It’s like asking how you breathe, or why you see colors. It’s natural, a feeling I get. I don’t need an explanation because planeswalking is who I am.”

“I suppose," he sighed looking over Ral again. "It all seems very mystical for a planebound like me.” Vrona gave a weak—probably forced—smile. “After the war, information about planeswalking was high priority. It was a brand new thing thrust to the forefront of everyone's minds. I needed to be educated on the subject to prepare myself for the eventuality of working with planeswalkers.”

“That makes sense,” Ral nodded.

“There’s this thing inside of you called a spark, it’s tied to your soul. It’s what allows you to travel between planes. The problem here is that your soul is attached to mine. I do  _ not  _ have a spark, and never will. If you try to planeswalk it will drag me with you and rip me to pieces.”

Ral’s stomach dropped like a griffin shot out of the sky. “Oh.” 

“You don’t want me to die, do you Zarek?” Vrona asked cautiously, like he was placating a raging animal.

He tried to offer Vrona a smile, but it felt more like a grimace than anything. “No, you’re  _ alright _ . I don’t wanna hurt you.”

Vrona gave a warm smile. “I’m glad to hear that.” With another wave of his pale hand a now familiar sensation warmed the tip of Ral’s finger. “Sign?” He gestured toward the wall of text between them. Ral had been so overwhelmed by Vrona’s fear and the flurry of information that he failed to pay attention to what the Advokist had done.

“What did you do?” 

“The only way I feel safe continuing this agreement is if our contract forbids you from planeswalking. This will likely be temporary until I do more research on the subject. There might be a way for you to leave Ravnica without killing me.”

Ral gave a sigh as he read through the text and then nodded. He tried to bury his disappointment with being planebound under an apology. “That sounds fair. Master Vrona… I’m sorry I scared you. I didn't want to upset you.”

“Oh, Zarek,” Vrona whispered, reaching out and resting a hand on his shoulder. Ral only then realized that he had been shaking. “It’s alright. I’m not upset with  _ you.  _ I was just… worried. Not often is it that I find myself placing my life in the hands of a boy I barely know.”

Ral smirked, “I’m not a boy.”

Vrona chuckled, his expression softening. His hand trailed up Ral’s neck before resting against his cheek in a gentle caress. “Right. A  _ young man _ I barely know.”

“Better.” Now he was full on grinning. 

“So,” Vrona leaned in playfully. “Sign?”

Ral did as he was told, looping a fancy  _ Ral Zarek _ on the designated line. Vrona signed his name alongside his own, their signatures were as elegant and flowery as ever.

“You made sure to read it this time, right?”

Ral gave an exasperated groan as Vrona laughed at his expense. The sweet sound sent his heart flipping like a Rakdos performer. “ _ Yes, master.”  _

“Thank you, _ young man _ .” 

For some reason, each time Vrona called him that it caused heat to spread across his features. 

“Now, there’s one place I sorely need to take you.” A smooth thumb from the hand holding Ral’s face pressed into the swell of his cheek. “I hope you enjoy getting wet.”

“I enjoy doing a lot of things,” Ral purred and leaned into the touch.

Vrona smiled wide, his white teeth were as perfect as Ral would expect them to be. “So eager to please.”

“But for you? Well actually I’m already-” 

“Gods Zarek, I meant a  _ bath,”  _ Vrona scoffed. 

“Oh…” Ral tried to stop himself from being disappointed. He looked away, suddenly afraid of the intensity between them. The hand on his face fell and left entirely as Vrona finally pulled away. “I could use a bath,” he muttered.

Ral certainly wasn’t the cleanest man in the multiverse and his lifestyle offered no way around that fact. Scavenging and working around machines made the worst layer of oil, grime, and sweat. The best way for him to wash himself was to collect rainwater in a big tub then sit inside of it and scrub off all the dirt. 

“Oh yes, I agree wholeheartedly.” Vrona turned and lead him back towards the entrance, up the main staircase and around a massive reception area before walking down another staircase and through a large set of metal doors.

“These are the public baths, where the servants wash, you may use them whenever you wish. I have my own private bathing chamber, maybe one day I’ll allow you to use it as well.”

The heat hit them in a wave, as did the pretty scents and heavy steam. The baths were large, a long body of water contained within the tiled floor that stretched almost as tall as a tree. They could fit hundreds of people, perhaps all of Vrona’s staff at once. Ral doubted the oligarch would be inclined to test that hypothesis.

Along the tiled walls were a series of benches covered with towels and other bathing necessities. In a small alcove were two bins that said “USED CLOTHES” and “TOWELS”. 

The room, however, was not empty. As soon as the doors opened a group of servants scrambled to stand before Vrona and then bow in submission. One particular woman was presented to him as Ms Hannor. She had shoulder length graying hair, warm brown eyes, and a motherly look to her. 

Ms Hannor bowed, dropping to her knees and lowering her head to the white tiled floor. Ral watched in a strange wonder, he’d never seen someone submit that dramatically before. “We’ll take care of him, Master Vrona.” 

Was  _ he  _ supposed to bow like that? 

Vrona gave a slight nod and shot Ral one last lingering look, his lips curling downward into a frown seemingly trapped in thought. Then he abruptly turned in a flurry of white and blue fabric and exited the baths.

Ral suddenly felt very alone. He’d begun to grow used to the Advokist’s presence, without him the room had doubled in size and the servants felt like strangers. He looked between the bathing attendants nervously, fiddling with the hem of his shirt to focus. Why did he need a group of five people to help him take a bath? 

He got his answer quickly. A man around his age stepped forward and unwound the red scarf from his neck. Ral met the man’s uninterested gaze with confusion.

“We must undress you, Mr Zarek.” Ms Hannor appeared at his side with a smile that was probably supposed to be soothing. Ral was debating running and finding Vrona, but he doubted that he could navigate his maze of a house without getting horribly lost. “Please, allow us.”

He stumbled backwards. “Why? I can change on my own.”

“It’s what we’re here for, Mr Zarek,” came the small voice of a timid looking boy. He couldn’t have been older than Ral, his eyes were swallowing the rest of his face and his hair was a mess of curls falling across his dark skin. When the boy moved his arm Ral caught sight of some awful looking scars that disappeared under a bandage wrap that went all the way up to his shoulder. It looked like  _ burns.  _ Vrona wasn’t lying when he said his servants came from bad situations. 

He reached for Ral again and he couldn't help the way he flinched. It wasn't the idea of being naked that made him uncomfortable, it was the act of being undressed by other people that made him feel like he was helpless and his agency was being stripped from him. 

“I’m takin’ my  _ own _ clothes off, go ahead and watch if you want. I’m not lettin’ you undress me.” Ral kept away from the bathing attendants and pulled his shirt over his head. He stepped out of his boots, then pulled down both his small clothes and his baggy trousers at once. When he was completely bare he raised an eyebrow at the group surrounding him. 

“Please Mr Zarek, Master Vrona asked us to bathe you. He will be upset with us if we don’t.” Whispered the timid boy. Ms Hannor gave the boy a concerned look and said something to him low enough that Ral couldn’t hear. The boy nodded and gave a weak smile before returning his big eyes back to Ral. 

“Then lie to him and say that you did! It’s not that hard!” Ral wasn’t particularly interested in being manhandled and forced into being cleaned by a group of strangers. 

“Trust me Mr Zarek, it won’t be that bad. It’s like a  _ massage,  _ it’s relaxing.”

“Mr Zarek please calm down, we’re just cleaning you-“

“I can bathe on my  _ own _ .” Ral growled, his voice buzzing with an unnatural energy. “Let me go!” 

As he stepped backwards away from the servants they continued to creep forward, apparently the warning wasn’t enough for them. Ral felt fear twisting in his gut, that familiar sensation that had saved his life countless times before. But this wasn’t a fatal situation, he wasn’t going to die from being cleaned. He didn’t understand why he was  _ so scared. Why can’t I breathe? Krokt, please make it end. _

_ Animals are most dangerous when backed into a corner. Rain mages are never dangerous, they’re too weak to fight back. _

An open hand landed flat between Ral’s taut shoulder blades, immediately he spun around and went to knock the intruder away and protect himself. He belatedly realized that the girl who touched him was balancing a pallet of soaps and other liquids on an ornate porcelain tray. When he shoved her away her grip faltered, sending everything to the floor with a deafening clatter.

_ Oh no oh no, please no. What is Vrona gonna do when he sees this?  _ This would be it, the final failure to push Vrona over the edge and physically punish him. Would he use a whip, or maybe a weighted collar? He couldn’t picture the dainty man using his fists, and not just because of his promise for no beatings. Vrona looked like the kind of man who would throw a fit if he sprained his wrist or broke the skin on his own knuckles.

Ral tried to swallow back the increasing dread in his throat. The porcelain was shattered, glass containers of scented liquids and gels were cracked and leaking in a pile on the floor. He’d been lucky that he hadn’t been hurt. The glass had broken with enough energy to send it across the room.

The attendants warily looked at Ral with varying levels of horror. The timid boy looked like he was about to cry, Ms Hannor whispered to him and tried to calm him down. The girl who had been holding the tray looked pissed, she was now fishing for anything salvageable. A few bars of soap, some plastic bottles, and washcloths were cleaned of any debris and placed aside. 

The door to the baths swung open, the servants instantly going silent from their frantic chatter and bowed their heads in respect. Ral dreaded turning around, he knew exactly who just walked in and he desperately wanted to be wrong. 

“Stop, give the boy some space. What in the gods’ names is going on? Zarek, is something the matter? Are you alright?” Vrona asked, his quiet but quick steps coming closer and closer from behind him. 

On his commands, the servants near Ral took several steps away from him.

Ral’s face burned red. The day couldn’t get any worse! Now Vrona was seeing him like this after making a fool of himself countless times already. He couldn’t bring himself to confess his own weakness so instead he lied. “‘M fine… just an accident. I’m sorry, Master.”

“You’re making an interesting impression on my serving staff.” Vrona sighed and came into Ral’s vision, stopping directly in front of him and sizing him up. His dark eyes roved over his naked form, Ral had the decency to shudder. “And I see that you’ve made a mess of the place.”

Ms Hannor prostrated herself before the Advokist, the other servants following her lead and bowing as well. It was only Ral and Vrona left standing, and Vrona’s eyes never left Ral’s body. Then Ms Hannor rose, darting to the advokist’s side and speaking quietly to him. Vrona’s attention darted back and forth from the mess on the floor to the other servants and to Ral as she spoke, probably telling the oligarch all about everything he did wrong. 

_ If he keeps looking at me, he's going to get more than he asked for. _

“You’re quite the handful aren’t you, Zarek.” Vrona tilted his head hesitantlyーlooking at him almost proudlyーand smiled in a way that made Ral’s heart jumpstart. He didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t being insulted or reprimanded, but he wasn’t complaining. Perhaps he would be avoiding punishment after all. Vrona seemed more amused than ready to plant a few new scars on Ral’s body. 

He already felt himself relaxing, the tension fading from his body, sparks fading away into a dull buzz. No one was going to be touching him with Vrona there, Ral was sure of it. No one would dare betray the man’s orders.

_ And if he’s not mad, then I’m going to go back to flirting. _

“I’m not  _ that  _ big, Master Vrona.” Ral found he didn’t even have to force a smirk. He gave his best sultry look, his eyelids lowered and his lips were parted just so. 

Vrona inched forward, mirroring Ral’s charged expression he murmured, “Don’t sell yourself  _ short, boy.“  _ His gaze lowered to Ral’s lips and the man licked his own in response, perhaps out of reflex or maybe an intentional flirtation. Ral didn’t know.

_ I’m not a boy. _

“Thank you for your help, I apologize for the misunderstanding. Everyone else besides Mr Zarek may go.” Vrona said just loud enough for his low tenor to echo off the tiled walls and glass ceiling. Despite the free will given by his words, the voice that he used to speak them offered no room for disobedience. At his request the bath attendants slowly shuffled out, leaving only Ral and him alone in the room.

Ral felt much more at ease now that he didn’t have five more sets of eyes on him. He smiled and leaned closer into Vrona’s space. “You wanted some alone time,  _ Master _ ?” 

The man folded his arms and gave Ral a knowing smile before blinking, his eyes widening and his feet carried him a painful distance away. Vrona’s expression turned to a serious one. “I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, I’m sorry. I didn’t predict your reaction, I wrongfully assumed you would be fine with being helped by my staff. Please forgive me, Zarek.” Vrona bowed his head slightly.

Vrona was asking  _ him  _ for forgiveness? He thought that the man came here to yell at him for misbehaving. This was definitely  _ not  _ what he was expecting. 

And why the sudden change in behavior? He hadn’t outright rejected Ral yet, and clearly Vrona was picking up on the ‘hints’ he was leaving. If he didn’t want Ral to flirt all he had to do was order him to stop. 

“I-it’s alright,” Ral stuttered.

Vrona slowly extended one of his hands and asked, “May I touch you?”

“Yes,” Ral gasped. He’d been fantasizing about it regardless.

The touches were painfully innocent. A comforting hand on his shoulder, fingers smoothing circles into his sweat slicked skin. The man watched for his reactions the whole time, eyes studiously inspecting him from behind his glasses. Ral wanted him to get more daring, dammit,  _ touch me. _

It was happening again, that  _ feeling.. _ . the head in the clouds soul leaving body feeling. It only happened when Vrona had his hands him. What did it mean, why did the man’s touch evoke such a response in him? _ Why does it feel so good? _

Gods he wasn’t going to last through an entire bath. 

Vrona placed a hand on the small of Ral’s back and gave him a nudge, a request to move forward. His words brushed across his ear. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Ral swallowed, nodding and taking slow, shaky steps towards the large rectangular bath inlaid into the white marble floor. The water was steaming and tinted slightly pink, bubbles rested on its calm surface. Through the haze he could just barely make out the steps that gradually led into the pool. 

As he made it to the first step Ral instinctively wanted to reach out and use Vrona as leverage so he didn’t slip, but the contract forbid him from doing so. Luckily Vrona noticed, or had the foresight to expect it, because he took Ral’s hand in his own and helped him into the bath. The chivalrous act made Ral smile giddily to himself.

Ral immersed himself into the warm bath, the water curling around his body and releasing the tension in his strained muscles. He couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Ral didn’t know the last time he’d been able to sit in a bath. His usual method of keeping clean involved opening up the skies as he hid naked behind a small alcove and hoped no one saw him. Rain was a poor substitute for a real shower, and neither shower nor rain compared to this.

When Ral made it to the last step he gingerly sat down, mindful of his sore ass. Vrona released his grip on him and smiled. “Zarek, would it be alright if I cleaned you?”

“You don’t think I can do it myself?” Ral squinted and put on his best offended expression.

Vrona took off his glasses, fogging up with steam, and wiped them on his dress shirt. He stared down at them in thought for a moment before hooking them in his breast pocket. “Oh I think you can, but I know you won’t be as… thorough as I will.” 

He looked just as stunning without his glasses as he did with them. The uninhibited view of his dark eyes and strong cheekbones was a treat. Ral found himself momentarily distracted, he blinked, realizing that he should probably respond. “Yes.”

“Good, I’ve been dying to see you under all that dirt.” Vrona grinned and dropped to one knee, unbuckling the clasps on his boots and sliding them from his feet. Then came the socks and after that he rolled up the bottom hem of his trousers to his knees. Ral couldn’t help but notice the strange marks on Vrona’s legs. They were all over his skin, small stripes forming strange patterns. They looked like scars… but they were everywhere. How could Vrona have so many of them? 

Ral didn’t want to overstep his boundaries, so he focused his attention on something else instead. “Hey! I’m not that bad.” 

Vrona shot him an unimpressed look. “Right, you’re even  _ worse _ .”

“And why are you undressing? You aren’t getting in with me, are you?”

“How else am I supposed to wash you? Vrona chuckled, untying the purple sash that connected his robes to his body. With a swift motion the garment was removed and folded into a neat pile. He placed his clothes on a bench near the bath, unlike Ral’s which were haphazardly pooled across the tile floor.

Underneath the opulent robes were a plain pair of brown trousers and a loose white dress shirt. His golden collar was still in place, but the rest of the fancy clothes were gone. He looked much more approachable.

Ral huffed, “I don’t know. With a giant stick?”

Vrona picked up a hand cloth from the bench with a laugh. He stepped into the bath and sat on the edge, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt before dunking the towel into the steaming water. Once it was wet he wrung out the excess fluid, a stream of droplets splattering back into the bath and dripping down Vrona’s arms.

“I’d rather do it by hand.” He smiled and stood, approaching where Ral sat. The water sloshed around him and stirred with the motion, reaching just below his knees. His trousers were getting wet at the very bottom, but Vrona didn’t seem to care at all. “I also can’t see very far without my glasses.” 

“So they aren’t just for show?” Ral stood to meet him, the water sluicing down his body. He noted where Vrona’s eyes went as soon as he raised himself above the water line.  _ Who’s dirty now? _

“You’ll find that most people in Orzhova have some sort of weakness that they’re trying to hide. I wear mine on my face,” Vrona said dryly, reaching out and rubbing the cloth against Ral’s cheek. 

He squinted and watched as the man concentrated on cleaning his face. Vrona had an intense determination about him, like cleaning Ral was the most important task he’d ever been given. After a few minutes of rubbing, he took the towel and rewet it in the water under them. This time he was much more aggressive, especially around the dips along his nose and under his brow. 

As Ral had his eyes screwed shut he muttered, “are you trying to scrub my skin off?”

“It’s called exfoliating and it’s  _ very _ good for you,” Vrona replied testily and continued scraping his skin raw. 

Once Vrona was satisfied with his work on Ral’s face he rewet the towel and went to town on the rest of his body. Layers of dust, dirt, and sweat were being cleaned off of him slowly but surely. His skin was a bright red from being irritated so much. It stung a bit, but in a good way that said that he was actually getting cleaned. Vrona hadn’t been kidding when he said he was thorough. 

Vrona had him sit so he could wash his legs, he spared no expense to any part of him. Getting between his toes, under his knees, even… between his thighs, much to Ral’s embarrassment. He tried to stifle a whimper when Vrona cleaned  _ there _ just as brutally as everywhere else. But judging from the evil smile on the man’s face, he failed at that entirely. 

“Done with the scrubbing. Now time for shampoo,” Vrona said cheerily as he climbed out of the bath and tossed the dirty cloth in a bin. He picked up an armful of bottles and containers and set them down on the ledge of the tub before stepping back in.

“There’s more?” Ral groaned tiredly and slumped down into the water. 

“That was just the first step! Don’t quit on me yet, Zarek. You were doing so well.” Vrona pinched Ral’s cheek. 

Ral grunted weakly and allowed Vrona to lift him up into a standing position. He took the plastic container in both hands and dipped it into the water, filling it to the brim. Then he held it into the air, raising it above Ral’s head and slowly tipped it over, allowing the contents to spill over his hair and down his figure. 

Vrona placed the bin back on the ledge and picked up a green bottle. Unscrewing the cap he allowed it to ooze out onto his palm until he was satisfied with the amount. He returned the bottle to the side of the tub and moved closer to Ral, working the shampoo into his damp hair. Vrona met his eyes as he massaged his scalp, gently tugging on his wet strands. Ral purred and leaned into the touch, his face was on fire and it wasn’t because of the exfoliating.

Ral felt so warm and content that he could fall asleep right there and then. His eyes were half lidded and heavy with sleepiness. The sensation of hands playing with his hair felt so good. His head was full of fluff, he didn’t even try to stop himself from moaning anymore.

Vrona paused, watching him intently, his face growing red. He took a deep breath before going back to work.

_ Oh.  _

_ Did he… like that? _

Vrona coughed and asked, “are you feeling better, Zarek?”

Ral nodded and sighed lightly.

“That’s good to hear. My manners have been atrocious today. I’m sorry for my behavior when you arrived… it was very bold and forward of me.” Vrona frowned and removed his hands, apparently satisfied with the status of Ral’s hair. He backed away and retrieved the plastic container again, filling it up with water and pouring it over Ral’s head. 

“Oh no,  _ Master Vrona _ , I really liked the bold version of you,” Ral gasped, running his own hands through his hair and slicking the wet strands back away from his face. He shot Vrona a pleased grin to which the man gave a deep sigh in response. 

_ No one can say I never tried to shoot my shot.  _

“Zarek, you shouldn’t say things like that…” 

“Why not? It’s true.”

“Zarek, please…” Vrona implored and smiled weakly. He approached again with a new cloth, this one had a pink liquid sitting on top of it. Ral had the mental capacity left to assume it was soap. “You are a menace.”

Vrona massaged the soap into his skin working it into a fluffy foam. He was much gentler now than he was with the first towel. Pressing into the tension between his shoulders, running the cloth down the curve of his spine. 

Then Vrona grew more daring, trailing his hands down Ral’s chest running along the ridges of his ribs poking through his tanned skin. Ral was only a man, he couldn’t help himself from reacting to being handled by an attractive man in such a way. He squirmed and shuddered around breaths as his mind went blank. It was happening again, that feeling... the head in the clouds soul leaving body feeling. 

A steady thumb teased one of his nipples causing Ral to arch his back and whine. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on his breathing. He needed to calm down, or else he was going to do something he regretted, like cum on Vrona’s nice fancy clothes.

“You’re so responsive.” Vrona smiled wide, as if he’d just discovered something absolutely fascinating. His voice was so low and husky and it sent tingles down Ral’s spine. 

His hips stuttered forward against his will, searching for some sort of friction. Anything to relieve the tension building up in his body, but the contract did its job and prevented Ral from touching Vrona. He needed something to hold onto, something to make him feel like he wasn’t just standing around like an idiot. Ral bit back a moan and grabbed onto his own hair, static sending the dark strands into its usual style.

Then the presence in front of him was moving, walking around behind Ral… there was only a moments pause and Ral assumed he would start cleaning him again but instead a warmth pressed across his entire back, arms wrapping around his thin waist to reach his chest. Loose fabric clung to his wet soapy skin, and there was a suspicious pressure hard against his ass…

Ral shivered uncontrollably, he could barely breathe through the fog in his mind and the air around him. Every part of him that Vrona touched felt like it was charged with energy. He couldn’t stop himself from moaning as the man rested his head in the crook of Ral’s shoulder and whispered into his ear. 

“You like me when I’m forward, do you? Do you like this, Zarek?” He sighed into Ral’s neck and brought his hand against his taunt stomach the edges of his finger grazing tantalizingly low... Ral wanted to scream  _ yes _ , to grind himself against Vrona or lead his touch south but he couldn’t do any of that so instead he just gasped and nodded weakly. 

“Did you lose your voice?” Vrona asked softly and held Ral flat against himself firmly. Ral’s hands clenched in fists in front of him, shaking with nerves. “Not as talkative when I have my hands on you. How disappointing.” He leaned in for one moment causing Ral’s heart to leap from his chest... but then Vrona was pulling back, leaving only the lingering touch of his breath grazing around Ral's throat.

_ No, no don’t stop.  _ “ _ Please.” _

“I’m sorry?” 

“Master Vrona,  _ please touch me," _ Ral whined through gritted teeth.

Vrona sighed with a frown. He didn't meet Ral's eyes as he took a full step back. “I’m afraid I’ve already done too much of that.”

Ral made a weak frustrated growl. Vrona took no pity on him, returning to his goal of covering him head to toe in soap. It only made Ral more aroused, especially when he worked around his sore ass. 

Vrona placed a hand on Ral’s narrow waist and asked, “do you still hurt here?”

“...Yes.” Ral winced.

“Your ‘friend’ must be a barbarian, not to take care of you after this,” Vrona made a displeased sound and moved to cleaning Ral’s legs, avoiding the painful area.

_ I’d take care of you after,  _ went unsaid. 

Once Vrona decided he was done he set aside the wash cloth and said, “here.”

A pair of hands cupped Ral’s ass.

“M-master?  _ What are you doing?”  _

An unnatural light grew in the room, the sound of wind chimes and church bells echoed through the baths in a beautiful flurry of music. The pain in Ral’s body slowly drained away, instead replaced with the feeling of calmness and bliss.

“I’m not very good at healing, but I can do something as simple as this.” Vrona removed his hands and backed away. “This is the extent of my ability, though.”

_ Oh.  _

“Thank you…” Ral gasped, turning around to face him. He wanted to see him, look into his eyes again. As embarrassed as he was about the man seeing his erection the desire to watch him won out. Vrona had the plastic tub in his hand again, he offered a slight smile as he dunked it into the hot bath and filled it with water. Pouring it over Ral’s head, he washed the soap off of him. 

“That should be good enough for now. Unless you want to put on some moisturizers-“

As much as Ral wanted to continue being pampered by Vrona, he really didn’t want to orgasm in front of him. “Nonono this is good enough, thank you... Master.” 

Vrona laughed and climbed out of the bath, taking Ral’s arm in a gentle hold and guiding him with it. “You certainly sound eager to leave. I’m almost hurt. Was it that bad?”

“No! I liked it, I really did. I’m just…” Ral struggled to find an excuse, “tired.”

Vrona smiled and murmured, “If that’s the case, let’s dry you off so I can send you to your quarters. You’ve seen enough today anyway.” 

The man padded across the tile, his feet smacking with a wet sound. He grabbed a pair of large fluffy towels from one of the benches and beckoned Ral to come closer. Hesitantly, step by step, Ral moved. His hair was soaked, the water droplets ran down his skin like rain, and his cock was aching between his legs. 

Vrona paid no attention to the more intimate parts of Ral’s body, unlike before. His warm brown gaze never left his face as he brushed the towel around Ral’s chest and dried his front, then his back and legs. He used the other towel to wrap in Ral’s hair the way that the fancy ladies in Tovrna would do at salons. 

“I’ll have clothes in your size sent to you later, but for now you’ll have to survive naked.” Vrona laughed and curled the fluffy cloth around Ral’s bare skin, folding it over and pinning it in place under his arm. He was skinny enough that it fit him decently well. 

Ral tilted his toweled head in confusion. “Why can’t I wear what I came here in?”

“Oh Zarek, I’ll be giving you much nicer clothes to wear.” Vrona’s eyes crinkled in the corners as he failed to stifle a laugh. Ral would have felt offended if it wasn’t coming from him, something about the way he said it made it seem… less harsh. Even despite that it still stung a little to be reminded that his nature was something pitiful or humorous to an oligarch. 

“Now, let me show you your room.” 


	3. What are you waiting for, a kiss or an apology?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Falling isn't the problem, it's what happens after that.
> 
> Or, Tomik opens up, then shuts down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to carry on the spirit of ral zarek wednesdays please accept this 3 chapter length chapter

  


  
  
  


Tomik hadn’t expected his life to change so dramatically so soon.

The couple of days when Zarek had been sick from overeating were a brutal test of his patience. He had paced through his office and snapped in the face of his clients too many times for his own good. His thrulls darted around the corners of the room avoiding his foul temper, they had a keen sense of his mood and knew not to cross him when it darkened. As soon as he returned home he’d thrown open the doors of the main entrance —much to Miss Ezelle’s surprise who almost dropped the tray she was carrying— and gone straight to Zarek’s room. 

It was just down the hall from his own master bedroom. He had been located in the servants quarters for all of four days before he was moved. It was a comfortable fit for the both of them. Zarek confessed his wonder at having a large room all to himself. It made Tomik’s stomach flip, hearing an innocent statement like that and knowing exactly  _ why _ he’d never seen such a thing before.

He couldn’t forget the image of Zarek standing in the baths shaking and vulnerable. His eyes were wide and glowing with fear, electricity ran in arcs along his naked body. His skin was stretched uncomfortably over his bones, ribs poking through like hard daggers. Scars that marked his face were far more abundant where clothes would hide them. It was clear that the damage done to him was intentional, orchestrated by someone that had experience in getting away with abusing the people who couldn’t fight back. 

He knew the type, he was forced to smile and shake hands with them every day.

Anytime Zarek tried his temper Tomik had to remind himself to be firm but kind. To avoid raising his voice or causing him any undue stress. He knew from their first meeting that Zarek reacted poorly to blatant aggression. He needed to consider how to approach all of his staff on a case by case basis. Many of them had specific triggers that corresponded with terrible trauma. Ezelle couldn’t be anywhere near a needle or a sewing machine. Loud noises and Yven didn’t mix well, Marcel became despondent at the sight of an open flame.

He was no stranger to paralyzing fear, he couldn’t bring himself to leave his home for months after that night… 

Tomik shook his head. It wasn’t time for thoughts like that. He’d been waiting all day to see Zarek again and he was almost there. He couldn’t let a darkened mood ruin their reunion. 

He was suddenly excited, knowing who was waiting for him at his destination made the pace of his footsteps quicken. Laughing giddly to himself, Tomik’s thrulls pranced and chirped around him as he bounded up the grand staircase and through the halls. He offered Ms.Hannor a kiss on her cheek as she greeted him with a warm smile. Perhaps the servants would notice a slight skip to his step if they looked close enough.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so happy. When they survived the war, maybe?

When he finally got to the tall doors of Zarek’s room he tried to collect himself. Straightening his golden collar, he fixed his glasses back into place. Tomik inhaled deeply, then exhaled forming a neutral mask of indifference. With everything in working order he gently twisted open the door knob—wary of making any disruptive loud noises—and let it quietly click shut behind him. Tomik approached slowly, the weight of him caused the floor to groan and the shuffling of his robes made an airy sound. His heart swelled in his chest at the sight of Zarek tangled in a thick wrap of fluffy blankets.

“How are you feeling?”

Zarek cracked his eyes open with a sly grin and slurred, “better now that you’re here.”

His smile spread to Tomik’s own lips, the muscles in his face stretched against his will. There was something so contagious and warm about him that had Tomik obsessed. Zarek’s gravity was pulling him in, his feet carried him to the edge of his bed without really knowing why he needed to be there. He sat and studied him for a moment, even in his sickness he was hard to look away from. Zarek’s pale green eyes were dull and drowsily lidded, his skin was flushed and his hair slicked to his forehead. He winced in pain and adjusted his body into a sitting position, his back was hunched forward and his head hung low. 

“I feel like horseshit,” Zarek admitted with a huff. 

Luckily, he was a mage, he knew how to make it better.

Tomik leaned in and whispered a few short words, his fingertips glowed a light blue and fragments of iridescent light flitted around like orbiting moons. He smoothed his hand over Zarek’s forehead, the magic sinking deep into his overheated skin. A simple spell, white magic that dulled the symptoms of pain. Zarek’s eyes closed as he breathed a relieved sigh and leaned into the touch.

“Better?” Tomik asked softly, his smile hadn’t waned at all, in fact it seemed to have only grown wider.

“Much,” Zarek nodded before bonelessly flopping back down onto the mattress. His eyes looked brighter than before, and his happiness less forced. 

Tomik let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looked down at his hands, the spaces between his long pale fingers. He felt like a fool grinning to himself, his heart was too fragile to place his gaze anywhere else. “I missed you.”

Zarek made a surprised sound.

“I’ve grown so used to having you around in the short time we’ve known each other that I didn’t know what to do without you,” Tomik laughed quietly, idly twisting his house sigil ring around his finger. The confession released a heavy burden from his chest.

“I missed you too.”

Tomik snapped his attention to Zarek who was looking at anything but Tomik’s face. The bed sheets, the clock in the corner of the room, the light fixtures. The paintings on the wall in particular must have been fascinating, Zarek stared at those the longest.

It seemed like they were both beyond skittish when it came to their emotions.

“I’m glad,” Tomik whispered. He didn’t need to raise his voice when it was just the two of them close together like this.

Zarek hummed quietly in agreement. For a moment they stayed like that simply existing in each other’s company. There were a thousand words that Tomik wanted to say, but none of them would fit how he was feeling. 

The sheets shifted as Zarek moved again, curling his body towards Tomik.  _ What an inviting view that was.  _ The sight alone made him want to slot himself right behind Zarek and hold him close. Wrap his arms around him and nestle his nose into the static frizz of Zarek’s dark hair. Would he laugh like a melody if Tomik ghosted his touch along his sensitive sides? Or would he gasp and stutter from the high of the contract invading his mind?

His fantasizing was cut short when Zarek patted the mattress beside him and said, “I could use some company.” 

It was the offer that he’d been waiting for, how could Tomik say no?

Zarek invited him in, pulling the sheets over Tomik allowing them to huddle against each other bundled up under a mountain of wolven fur blankets. He scooted closer until he was sitting beside him snuggled together. 

They bantered about anything that came to mind, pausing at intervals for Tomik help the man drink by holding up a glass of water to his lips… Or to sneak less than subtle glances at each other.

Apparently Zarek’s favorite plane was Ravnica by far, but he enjoyed the sun baked beaches of Ixalan and the mystical art of Kamigawa. Theros was a land where gods and heroes walked among men, Kaladesh was an inventor’s dream. Zarek had stories of many fantastic far away worlds that Tomik could barely even fathom. He showed Tomik that tattoo of a Kamigawan dragon he’d gotten on his arm, it depicted the divine guardian of a sacred forest or so he said. The only dragons that Tomik had ever seen were the Guildpact, and the invader that had torn Ravnica apart. 

He had another tattoo as well, received on the third day of his contract. The day Zarek had his slave mark inked into his skin. He grimaced and teared up, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. The artist had stated that most people passed out from the pain, screaming and begging for mercy. Apparently Zarek had a high tolerance for that sort of thing. He shrugged and said that it probably had to deal with his magic,  _ probably.  _ Tomik didn’t know how to feel about it, but watching the young man squirm on the table as the skilled artist carved the sunburst symbol of his guild into the skin of Zarek’s inner thigh had sent Tomik’s thoughts to less than chaste places. 

Tomik was going to have Zarek tattooed on his shoulder, a place that could be hidden but also just as easily revealed if necessary. A reasonable location for an identifying mark. Zarek had given him a determined look and ordered the artist to put it right under his crotch, to which Tomik hesitantly allowed. It wasn’t his place, or it  _ technically _ was but Tomik didn’t feel comfortable dictating what Zarek did with his own body.

When the artist had finished their part he handed Vrona a different needle, one that was enchanted with magic. 

“There’s more?” Zarek breathed, eyes warily shuffling between the other two men and the needle.

“It’ll be much faster, sir. Just a signature.”

Zarek raised an eyebrow in confusion, then looked over to Tomik again, his expression morphing into surprise. “You?”

So he figured it out quickly enough, his mind as sharp and imaginative as always. Tomik nodded and raised the needle in his hand. “To seal your admittance to the Orzhov. Think of it as a contract, you won’t be a true member unless I sign it. With this, you’ll have full protection under the law as offered to a member of the Syndicate.”

“Your name is going to be on my…” his face twisted in disbelief. “Just get it over with,” Zarek moaned and covered his face with his arm. 

He braced himself gripping hard on Zarek’s knee as he slowly carved his name into the man’s skin. It took some time, more than Tomik remembered it taking with Ms.Hannor. Perhaps it was due to the fact that Zarek was dangerously close to accidentally electrocuting him or was repeatedly failing to cease the squirming of his hips. Every movement made Tomik pause, every gasp made him question Zarek’s level of comfort. 

Tomik certainly didn’t know what to do when Zarek had looked at him like that. Brows lowered and green eyes darkened with a heady, lustful energy. Tomik watched as Zarek’s mouth parted, a pink tongue sensually sliding, teasing his bottom lip. His legs were spread wide open without anything covering his perceived modesty besides a thin cloth. 

He didn't make a peep when the artist had been between his legs for hours, but when Vrona was there for less than ten seconds he moaned  _ ceaselessly _ .

“If the pain is too much…”

Zarek gave a sharp laugh. “You think I’m making these noises cuz I’m in pain?”

Tomik blankly stared at him, amazed by his audacity to say anything the moment that it came to his mind. A cautious glance to the artist met his expectations, a shrug and a forced expression of ignorance. When an oligarch paid you a small fortune to complete a task, you didn’t question anything. Any gossip could ruin your entire career. The Orzhov wouldn’t mind destroying someone over a small slight.

There was an old horror story told to new money that Grandfather Karlov had once dishonored an entire family over a mistake in the amount of sugar in his tea. 

Tomik's mouth slowly closed, he wouldn’t feel safe to say any of the colorful retorts that he’d conjured up before a spectator.  _ Do you think I can’t recognize how you sound when you’re desperately begging to be fucked? _

When his signature was finished, the elegant script glowed gold and then faded back into his skin. It would be invisible until Tomik made physical contact with Zarek or magic was used to pull at the spell that sealed the man to the Orzhov. 

Gods, how was Tomik going to take him anywhere? Zarek was such a  _ whore.  _ Less than a week after the day he moved in Zarek had cornered him after his work hours and demanded that he “make his dick work again”. Apparently Tomik’s order for the man to never be fucked by anyone else under the contract included himself. He almost felt bad for Zarek, but then the man told him about how he figured out how to masturbate without touching himself and Tomik didn’t feel so guilty anymore. Zarek could use a break from his base desires.

That was the whole reason why he had to be moved from the servant’s quarters. Everyone had gotten tired of hearing Zarek at night and gone to him to solve the problem. The best option ended up being moving the man just down the hall from Tomik. It made it easier for Zarek to do his early morning duties, and Tomik didn’t have to hunt him down anymore to request his company. 

Though ever since Tomik had given Zarek the freedom to pleasure himself again, he’d also begun to attempt to figure out a way to get past the contracts restriction on other men. Three times Tomik had found the young man bent over with his pants down growling in anger as his would be sexual partner had been knocked unconscious by the pact’s magics. The most recent occasion Zarek had then turned his head to look Tomik in the eyes and whined for  _ Tomik  _ to take him instead. 

_ “The contract doesn’t forbid you, master.” _

Tomik inhaled deeply and forced through his grit teeth, “Pull up your trousers, Zarek.”

Zarek whined, angling his hips higher into the air and shaking his ass like an enticing prize. “Aw, but  _ master. I need you so bad. Please? I’ve been good-“ _

“Enough.  _ Go.”  _ Tomik closed his eyes, but it was too late to avoid that image from being burnt into his memory.  _ Fuck. _

“Fine,” Zarek growled, peeling himself off of the bannister he was bent over. He stumbled away, struggling to pull his pants up as he tripped down the hall. The whole time he slunk out of view a stream of colorful curses flew from his mouth.

That was  _ a dangerous territory to be treading in.  _

And curse him, he wanted to. Tomik wanted to do it so bad. Fold him over the railing where he had found him with his bare ass presented in the air free for the taking. Grab Zarek by the hair as Tomik peeled off his own trousers and slowly sink his cock into that tight hole. He had no idea how bad Tomik craved him, or how much he was holding back. 

He couldn’t ever know. They didn’t stand a chance together. Tomik was chained by his obligations to his family and guild, Zarek was only playing with him. He’d come to acknowledge just how base the man’s instinct to flirt was. He flirted with the staff, Tomik’s clients, Tomik himself, and his guests regardless of their gender despite his clear preference for men. He’d even hit on Ms.Hannor once or twice within Tomik’s presence. 

Deep down he envied Zarek, even with his new status as a slave he was probably happier than Tomik ever had been in his life. He wished that he had that freedom to do whatever he wanted, make mistakes, have fun, explore the world, meet new people, find  _ love.  _

Tomik would never have the liberties to do any of those things. Any mistake for him could be deadly, any lapse in poise and attentiveness could ruin everything he’d been working for. He couldn’t leave the tenth anymore, he could barely walk through the gardens for over an hour without his legs killing him. The only new people he had the chance to meet were new clients and they weren’t much fun considering he was a property lawyer. All they ever wanted to talk about were their houses. How boring. 

And finding love? That was the one thing Tomik had dreamed of his whole life, the chance to find happiness in another heart. To be able to rely on someone without bribing them or using his influence. Someone to hold onto when the darkness was tearing him apart, when the world was closing in around him. Tomik ached for anyone he could be honest with. He wasn’t cut out for being alone.

Could he dare to imagine a life like that with  _ Zarek _ ? 

No. That was impossible—beyond their vastly different goals in life and places in society—Tomik didn’t believe that Zarek felt anything for him beyond a momentary lust. It was painfully clear that Zarek wanted to have sex with him, it had been from the day of his arrival. And judging from his commentary, he was quite the promiscuous man. Tomik would be another notch in his belt.

He didn’t want to be discarded so easily.

For the Orzhov sex was a weapon, another tool to get people to do what you wanted. Sleeping with debtors was taboo, viewed as a scandalous act reserved for smutty romance novels and depraved brutes. Tomik couldn’t tarnish his reputation like that, especially with his plans at such a crucial stage. 

But his mind and body didn’t seem to agree. His heart was longing, reaching out for any human contact. 

Just the other morning Zarek had come into his room completely zoned out. He tried to undress Tomik as was expected but only managed to slide fabric off one pale shoulder before he collapsed on the warm sheets and dozed off. Having no obligations before noon, the idea of more sleep was suddenly very appealing to Tomik. He wrapped Zarek in his arms and pulled a blanket over the both of them and drifted back into his dreams. Shortly after that, Pumpkin snuck under the covers and squeezed itself between them.

Zarek was surprised when he woke up spooned by him, but Tomik was great at negotiation and quelled the boy’s embarrassment to a manageable level. 

_ “You were warm,”  _ wasn’t a lie, but it felt like an excuse nonetheless.

  
  


* * *

Tomik knew as soon as he came into consciousness that Zarek had failed to wake him for the third day in a row. The sunlight streaming in through the flowing curtains and the ornate clock on the wall ticking by Fed into his conclusion. The most telling sign was the fact that Zarek wasn’t chatting his ears off. After weeks of the man working for him Tomik had grown used to locating him through sound alone. His laughter could be heard from across the estate, and his  _ moans  _ could be heard from across the hall.

_ Dammit Zarek, I had an appointment this morning. _

One of the thrulls curled at the foot of his bed stretched its tiny fists and yawned. It must have been roused out of its slumber by his restless movements. Its maw opened wide revealing rows of razor sharp teeth designed to shred flesh with ease. It took years for him to be able to look at his thrulls again without  _ remembering. Another thing he loved that his forsaken guild had ruined. _

He scratched the small creature under its chin, causing the thrull to throw its neck back and expose itself to more petting.

“Good morning, Pumpkin.” Tomik sighed, placing his glasses on his nose and readjusting his sleeping gown so it sat on his shoulders rather than dangle precariously from his elbows. “It’s time to go wake up prince charming.” Tomik snorted to himself. “He’s supposed to be waking  _ me.” _

Pumpkin yipped in response.

“You’re the only one who understands me, Pumpkin.” 

The thrull rolled onto its belly and raised its limbs into the air. Tomik immediately put his hands to good use and gave Pumpkin a shower of tummy rubs. The creature wiggled as its tongue lolled out of its mouth in absolute bliss.

“Who wants to go wake up Zarek? Is it  _ youuu _ ? Do you want to go wake him?” Tomik sang in a playful tone.

Pumpkin squealed very intimidatingly (at least Tomik assumed the thrull thought it was). 

“Go get him, Pumpkin!” Tomik laughed and watched as the thrull leapt up into action, rolling off the silk sheets and darting out of his bedroom through the small flap at the bottom of the door. 

A few moments later came a scream, and then a few moments after that Zarek was stumbling into his bedroom bleary eyed and grumbling. Pumpkin snuck in behind the boy, prancing with its head held up high, proudly presenting the gift of one sleepy young man to its master. 

“Good morning, Zarek.” Tomik smiled and offered a polite wave, he was perched at the edge of the plush mattress with his robes hanging open revealing  _ everything. _

“Ugh.” Zarek glared at Tomik’s enthusiasm, pointedly not letting his gaze drop below his jawline, then at the thrull that was curling itself around his bare ankles. He probably would have kicked Pumpkin across the room if Tomik wasn’t there. Luckily thrulls were very squishy and resilient. “Sorry, ‘m still not used to wakin’ up so early. Bed so comfy...”

Tomik sighed and pushed his messy bangs out of his face. “I know it’s hard to do but it’s important for me, and I can’t be at my best without your help.” He met Zarek’s eyes and gave a reassuring hum. “You’ll learn.” 

He quirked his eyebrow at the compassion behind Tomik’s words. 

While Zarek might irritate him with his carefree attitude… that  _ was _ exactly why Tomik hired him in the first place. It would be hypocritical of him to be upset or annoyed with his behavior or his lack of enthusiasm. He didn’t want to have to ask Ms. Hannor to go back to being his personal servant. That would be  _ so  _ awkward considering he held a small party for her promotion and everything.

“I  _ am _ a quick learner.” Zarek smirked and trudged over to Tomik’s massive closet. It was probably more accurately described as a dressing room. There were floors of clothing, all arranged by color and level of formality that made Zarek’s job much easier once he got the hang of where everything was. Though most of it was white, ridiculously over the top, and decked out in woven gold threads and Orzhov coins. 

Once he found the outfit that Tomik would be wearing for his business that morning he returned and placed the pile of fabric on the mattress. Zarek removed Tomik’s sleeping gown without much hesitation, unlike the first time he did it where he had been beat red and stuttering over apologies the entire time. Now he didn’t even bat an eye when Tomik was completely naked before him, as he was now. Not that the night gown had covered much with its transparent lace fabric and open middle.

It sent a strange feeling through his chest to know that Zarek was growing so comfortable around him. Tomik couldn’t quite comprehend why he was different. It was usual for the servants to see Tomik in various states of undress considering how they bathed and clothed him. Most of them fell into it without much embarrassment, but Zarek wasn’t just any servant. No matter how hard Tomik tried to ignore it, feelings kept creeping up on him. 

Tomik enjoyed the conversations he had with Zarek throughout the day, and especially during the morning. There was a complete lack of reservation between them when they were dead tired and barely clothed that really enriched the experience. 

“Did you like the messenger I sent you?” Tomik murmured sleepily and reached out to tug on the loose shirt Zarek wore to bed. His stubble was growing again, like it did every morning. They would have to shave soon most likely in the evening after the day’s plans. 

“Your thrull thing licked my face.” Zarek made a ridiculous gagging noise as he dropped to his knees between Tomik’s spread legs. “Nasty.”

Tomik tried to stop himself from thinking about what a great position Zarek was in for oral. He grinned down at the young man and raised his feet into the air to help make the dressing faster. “Pumpkin isn’t nasty, it’s just made out of dead people!” 

Zarek gave Tomik a blank stare before going back to his task of sliding a pair smallclothes up his pale legs. Half the time Tomik didn’t even wear undergarments, his leggings and tighter pairs of pants didn’t provide much space for anything underneath besides his naked body. He would have to have a wardrobe change later that day, but for now Tomik only needed comfortably loose trousers.

And despite the boy’s original wariness, he made no comment on Tomik’s scarred legs. Zarek was covered in scars too, the gash on his jaw and another across his nose. He also had a particularly nasty looking slash on his lower right abdomen, it looked like it had never been treated. The tissue was jagged and thick similar in its appearance to the ugly ridges where Tomik’s arm connected to his shoulder. He highly doubted that Zarek’s scars were caused by the same thing, though. 

The boy dug his thumb into the soft skin of Tomik’s inner thigh and again said, “ _ Nasty _ .” 

“I think it came from my mother actually-“

“Krokt, Vrona.  _ Stop talking,”  _ Zarek groaned and slapped Tomik’s chest with a pair of trousers that he had just picked up from the neat folded pile of clothes beside them. He laughed at Zarek’s blatant disapproval of all things thrull related. Anytime one of the thrulls so much as looked at him he shivered and turned in the other direction. 

The boy had at least gotten skilled at dressing him. He may not have been a good alarm, or great at washing Tomik without giving him static shocks, nor was he very good at keeping sober around guests. At the very least he wasn’t color blind when it came to fashion. 

Tonight was he was going to be dressing for a special occasion, Lady Velour was holding a formal gathering celebrating her daughter’s 200th birthday. All of the aristocracy was invited, anyone who meant anything to the Orzhov would be attending. And Tomik was the fourth person on the guest list, just under the guildmasters.

His own popularity was a bit disorienting at times. But a little voice at the back of his head couldn’t help but remark that if he put in a little more effort maybe he would be  _ above  _ the guildmasters.  _ I can just picture Teysa’s face scrunching up in outrage at the blow to her pride. Wouldn’t that be marvelous to watch. _

No Tomik was not petty, not at all. 

Okay, maybe a  _ little  _ bit.

Of course the entire party was Lady Velour’s sad attempt at roping in some short lived attention. She was utterly boring and easy to win over with the clink of gold and the promise of family recognition. Completely forgettable, Tomik had a hard time tolerating her presence for more than five minutes. He could only listen to her ass kissing and compliment fishing for so long. 

She’d also been trying to marry off her poor darling daughter for the last eighty years to some man belonging to a family more honorable than hers. She’d propositioned Tomik once or twice, or maybe more like  _ begged _ .

Despite Tomik’s complete preference towards men, he would still be expected to marry a woman and have children with her. Very few of the aristocracy actually _enjoyed _the sex of their spouses let alone _loved _them. It was one of the many burdens Tomik faced and ultimately had given up trying to escape from. 

When he was younger he dreamt of wedding bells and eloping with some handsome man, leaving all of his problems behind. They could find some Selesnyan druid-priest to wed them in a field of flowers or whatever those cultists did. Dreams were simply  _ dreams _ , he would be taking a paramour just like everyone else did. Usually a second or third son of a less respected house that would still gain influence among the guild from the relationship. The childish fantasies of love and sex had been squashed when the life had drained from his parents bodies. Now that he was the sole living member of his family it was  _ urgent, imperative, of utmost importance  _ that he impregnate some Lady and raise a nice happy family.

When Tomik had first become an advokist he originally planned on  _ Teysa  _ being that person. Now the very thought of seeing her like that  _ —pregnant with my child—  _ made Tomik feel queasy.  _ Oh gods no. I’d rather choose Lady Velour’s daughter.  _

Of course Tomik had tried every other option. There were no men in the aristocracy capable of bearing children. He’d looked through the records of every married pair since the beginning of the guild and could not find one that involved two men. There was  _ one _ with two women that ended after five short years because their families had gone to war with each other. 

There was also surrogacy, a common practice for the rest of Ravnica that was severely shunned among the oligarchs. The mother of the child would have to be an oligarch, and it would legally not be legitimate, since mother and father would not be married. A bastard child couldn’t inherit which brought Tomik back to square one.

He had been avoiding the subject of marriage for decades, and it seemed like it was finally catching up to him.

_ Times are looking desperate.  _

Tonight wasn’t the time to worry about that, however. It was about to be Zarek’s first night out at an event as Tomik’s companion. The young man had been prepared in etiquette and manners by Tomik’s own nanny from childhood who was a wretched prune of a woman but was the best at what she did. Zarek was an absolute terror, but by the end of two weeks she had him prostrating and using all the correct titles and begrudgingly submitting to his social standing as a slave. 

That was for the public, Zarek was still the same cocky storm mage around Tomik. He rather preferred it that way anyway. 

Originally Tomik had planned to go to the party solely to piss Teysa off. The date he had chosen would be enough for that, but Tomik never settled for ‘ _ enough’.  _ He wanted to shine a spotlight on himself, have Teysa’s plus one spend the night talking to her about  _ him.  _ And then for the weeks to come everyone would be asking around for what  _ Tomik Vrona  _ did at  _ Lady Velour’s  _ event _ .  _

But then, he had asked Zarek for advice on what to wear to draw attention. The boy shrugged and responded, “nothin’, just go naked.”

When Tomik had entertained the idea Zarek turned as red as his favorite flowers in the gardens and cried out, “I was joking!” 

Then Tomik came up with a better idea. Zarek was new, exciting, and something that the aristocracy had never seen before. Why not have  _ him  _ be the talk of the night? 

It would be much easier to draw everyone in using the storm mage. Zarek was already so talented at winning people over and swaying them with his charm. He had an enticing way with words and a taste for humor just modest enough to make the aristocracy fall in love with him but vulgar enough to keep them entertained. He’d earned the affections of many of Tomik’s staff already, the kitchens had practically adopted him, Ms.Hannor told Zarek about her children and was dangerously close to filling in as the boy’s missing maternal figure. Even the thrulls couldn’t get enough of him, much to Zarek’s chagrin, who had threatened to throw Pumpkin out the window the last time it tried to sleep in his bed. It seemed like the entire estate was drawn like a moth to a flame, including himself.

_ And that was precisely the problem. _

Tomik hadn’t expected to care for him just as much as he did now. He had expected a level of tolerance, some light amusement and comfort from his company. The weeks together hadn’t pushed them apart like he thought they would. It only pulled him further into the trap he was struggling to avoid.

  
  


After Zarek had finished dressing him in a more casual outfit Tomik had a quick meal of scrambled griffin eggs and wild boar bacon before he and Zarek were on their way to his meeting. It was held in a large conference room in the heart of New Prahv. The walk there had been quick enough, the light rain drizzling from the sky was easily redirected by Zarek keeping the both of them dry. Wet weather brought the four year old pain back to the joints of his legs. Any long walks had him wincing and stiff, he’d have to sit and rest for a while to dull the throbbing sensation.

  
  


Tomik had desperately wanted to skip through those three hours of guild relations legalese. The Azorius were the death of any enjoyment that Tomik derived from law. They loved to leech the humor out of everything, they even tried to get Zarek to leave. 

Tomik had to contain his laughter, they thought they could tell Zarek what to do? He didn’t even listen to his own master unless it personally benefited him to do so. 

_ Zarek please pay attention when I do this so I don’t have to keep shaving you.  _ Nope.

_ Zarek stop trying to get the gardener to fuck you.  _ Hopeless.

_ Zarek please stop waking me up at odd hours of the night screaming because one of my thrulls wanted to keep you company.  _ Impossible.

Really, it seemed like any reprimanding just further motivated Zarek into breaking rules and social expectations. He was a force of nature, he could be trained but not tamed. And Tomik admired him for it.

If the Azorius were offended by the way Zarek was lazily sprawled across his chair and piping in with lewd commentary, they were going to have to deal with it. Not that Tomik was going to let him say just anything, if Zarek was skirting the lines too hard then he would be reprimanded. But he was the only thing keeping Tomik from trying to wring the diplomats’ necks. 

Master Lavinia was the sole member of their guild he’d met and didn’t instantly dislike. She was different than the masses, similar to him in a way. Her passion and love for the Senate was plain to see, and she was working to change it. If only  _ Teysa  _ could be more like her. If only she could see that if the Orzhov didn’t reform then they would be left in the dust. 

They weren’t even the richest guild anymore, not by a long shot. The Izzet had surpassed them decades ago, and with the public support of their role in saving Ravnica their fortune was only growing… doubling in size. The Orzhov had barely lifted a finger when people in the streets were being  _ slaughtered _ , and when the knights did help they were protecting ‘investments’. Tomik had to beg until his throat was numb and his voice died out for his guild to wake up and realize that the dragon with an army of metal skeletons that had just killed  _ Niv-Mizzet _ was a threat they couldn’t ignore.

The Syndicate was dangerously cemented in its traditions, ancient practices that had maintained the guild’s wealth but done little to  _ improve.  _ Why did they settle for gold and abusing debtors when they could have technology, power, and influence across the entirety of Ravnica? Many of the buildings in Orzhova didn’t even have  _ electricity _ , no one wanted to put down the money to hire the Izzet and allow them to work inside of ‘ _ divine spaces _ ’. Some didn’t have heating either, during the colder months the parishioners would huddle in layers upon layers with their arms crossed trying to stay warm. Thank the gods that they caved for indoor plumbing. 

The Azorius diplomats that they were meeting that day in particular seemed to be dead set on rubbing Tomik the wrong way. They were an odd pair, both men but vastly different. One large, chiseled older gentleman with graying hair and dark wrinkled skin. His hair was cut short in the typical style that most members of the Senate wore. The other was much younger especially for a diplomat, perhaps in his mid twenties. His black hair came down to his shoulders and was straight as a pin. His skin was pale and smooth like porcelain and his eyes were dark and almond shaped. They were both as rigid as boards, like they both had poles shoved up their asses—as Zarek would say.

Speaking of Zarek, the man was sitting right beside him absentmindedly playing with a set of wires. He was wearing a loose top the color of red wine and a pair of black form fitted trousers. Beyond that he was only wearing his collar, his travel sized accumulator, and dark brown boots. The belts, pouches, and strappings criss crossing his chest and his narrow waist were holding the accumulator tightly to his back. His pockets were full of spare parts that he liked to fiddle with during meetings such as this one. Sometimes he would even hand Tomik what he’d made during the middle of a negotiation with an excited grin. Tomik’s personal chambers in his home and his office desk in Orzhova were covered in little creatures shaped from metal and pocket sized machines. Tomik’s personal favorite gift from Zarek was a pocket sized coffee maker that made brews for faeries.

Tomik had been sent to negotiate how much Teysa Karlov would be ‘donating’ to the Azorius. In reality the money would be going to a multitude of investments such as bribes to specific officials, upkeep on arrangements involving prisoners and enforcing of the laws in ‘holy spaces’, and general hush money. There was one specific project that Tomik was focusing on, a new courtroom was to be built in a distant district under the sigil of the Orzhov. Due to the location of the building it wasn’t technically  _ legal _ to build it. A plethora of tedious codes were preventing it, codes that Tomik relished circumventing as much as possible. 

His job was to sweet talk the Azorius officials into loosening their iron grip just enough to allow the Orzhov to get what they wanted. Why Teysa couldn’t do it herself, Tomik didn’t know. Perhaps she just didn’t particularly feel like it that day. The Azorius were never entertaining and negotiations tended to be tedious. Maybe she sent Tomik on purpose knowing that he hated it. That sounded like her.

At least he had Zarek to keep him company. 

He could tell right away that the older man was much more professional, his voice was even and clear. His expression betrayed little emotion beyond boredom. Tomik was looking through his documents for a specific paper when the man started to speak past their greeting. “Lady Teysa agreed on at least one hundred thousand zinos for the budget-“

“I am  _ not  _ Teysa Karlov,” Tomik said sharply, almost defensively. “And I believe that anything over eighty thousand zinos is preposterous. Similar projects have required much less.” 

Zarek gave him a concerned look, reaching out to comfort him before realizing that he couldn’t and dejectedly returning his arm to his side. 

The older diplomat eyed him warily, the younger bore an offended frown. 

It was too aggressive, his emotions needed to be reeled in. Tomik drew his face back to neutrality, setting down his stack of papers, he apologized. “Please forgive me for my rudeness. Lady Teysa and I do not always agree upon things.” Tomik gave a slight bow of his head at an attempt to ease the tension. 

“As her advisor you represent her in this meeting that she was too busy to attend, do you not?”

Tomik fixed the Azorius older diplomat with a dissecting look, resting his chin on his hand. “Yes, I do. But as her advisor I am also authorized to point out her errors in judgement, and this is one of them.” 

_ I might be the only person in the Syndicate that doesn’t have to put up with Teysa’s bullshit.  _

“The deal has already been made, you cannot change it,” droned the very tired looking older official. Despite the nature of the exchange the pair of them were decked out in full armor. If they really wanted to, they could go out on the streets of the tenth and pose as guards after the meeting. “What we are here to discuss is how you plan on bypassing the building restrictions.”

Tomik inclined his head in amusement. “Did you sign an agreement?”

The older man frowned, “No, but Master Karlov gave us her word.”

_ And how much was her word worth, after everything? _

“Words mean nothing, it’s not a legal commitment and holds no weight in court.” Tomik gave an innocent smile. “I would expect the Azorius of all guilds to know that.”

The younger diplomat finally decided to speak his mind. “And I would expect the Guildmaster’s loyal clerk to obey her orders. Do you think just because she keeps you around that you hold any real authority over her?” 

The older Azorius diplomat eyed the younger one with an eye of exasperation. “Master Vrona please excuse Mister Asher he is young and ill tempered-“

Asher gave a garbled noise of contemptment, throwing his armor clad shoulders up in a childish display of stubborness. “The Orzhov are all greedy liars, of course they’re going back on their word!” 

Tomik rose an unimpressed eyebrow at the man’s brash tongue. He was right, preaching to the damn Orzhova choir, but this wasn’t the time for discussing the innate faults in the guild system. “Liars or authoritarian police state, we’re both wrong. Now do you want to negotiate on the terms of our arrangement or not?” 

A quick glance to his right prove his suspicions. Zarek’s hands were gripped hard against the wood of his chair, a scowl on his otherwise handsome face. Their eyes met, Tomik shook his head in a clear  _ no.  _

“I’d prefer to talk to the woman we made the original deal with, not her lapdog.” Asher gave a condescending smirk. “How busy can she be? The dead aren’t going anywhere.”

_ Is that how people see me? Teysa’s lapdog?  _ Tomik’s stomach suddenly felt very unsettled. Of course there was gossip among the aristocracy about Tomik’s perceived obedience to Teysa and how no one understood why they hadn’t married yet. But the oligarchs wouldn’t openly speak such negativity about the guildmaster and her advisor when it could come back to ruin their reputation. 

The other diplomat looked to his partner in shock. “ _ Mister Asher-“ _

“So what if Master Vrona is giving you less, would you prefer no money at all?” Zarek snapped, rising out of his seat in a hurry. “If ‘Master Teysa’ cares that much then she’ll fix whatever mistake she thinks my master made. She certainly didn’t care enough to show up, so if you refuse to make a deal with my master I doubt you’ll get anything from her.”

_ Ah, damn it, Zarek. Exactly what I  _ didn’t  _ want you to do. _

“You should train your  _ pet  _ to behave, Mister Vrona. Or maybe leave the dog outside?” Asher made a yawning gesture, like he’d rather be napping than speaking with ‘dogs’.

Tomik bit back the bile rising in his throat and tried to keep his voice level. “Excuse me?” If looks could kill then the room would be full of corpses. “Have you lost your manners at some point during our negotiations? Is dehumanizing language acceptable among the Azorius?”

Of course, Tomik could expect the childishness from the Gruul or the Rakdos. But the Azorius were stately and reserved, strictly following a set formality with each interaction. The only guild to truly rival his own with manners and respectful speech, though the Boros did make a solid attempt at it as well. The Selesnya were too distant and starry eyed, the Izzet were never mentally interested enough to waste their precious time on flowery language. They’d much rather be doing three hundred other things at any given moment. Simic were professional, but unrealistic in their approach. The Dimir were thankfully blunt about what they were willing to do, and didn’t try to lead discussions past an hour. As for the Golgari… well, Tomik tried to avoid them as best as he could. 

“Asher. Go.”

Asher looked to his partner in surprise. “Me? Why-“

“You have done nothing but aggravated everyone else in this room. I am capable of reaching an agreement without you here.”

Asher looked like he wanted to object or open his mouth again for another scathing retort, instead he stood in disbelief and stomped out of the room. His armor clanking loudly as he slammed the door behind him. Sweet, sweet vindication.

The remaining Azorius diplomat bowed his head. Tomik couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the man, he clearly felt ashamed for his partner’s attitude. It likely wasn't his decision on who would be assisting him, rather it was assigned by another official. “My deepest apologies, Master Vrona.”

“Mine as well,” Tomik agreed, shooting Zarek a disappointed look that sent the man awkwardly returning to his seat with a huff. 

Tomik offered a small, albeit forced, smile.  _ Lapdog,  _ the words kept echoing in his head. It wasn’t even the worse he’d been called, but having it so boldly thrust into his face during a formal situation  _ stung.  _

“Now let’s get back to the topic at hand.”

* * *

Tomik had convinced the Azorius to accept his version of the contract after all. It had only taken about an hour or so, much faster than he’d expected. After that he pulled out his notes on the building code and explain exactly why it was completely fine for the Orzhov to bypass the law for their courthouse. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. His borderline passive disobedience against Teysa was all he could do for now. It wasn’t quite yet time for outright action. 

But there was something else on his mind at the moment. 

_ Zarek. _

After the diplomats dispersed, Tomik pulled Zarek aside in the privacy of an empty conference room. It was big enough for thirty or so people to sit around a massive circular table. As they entered Zarek had given him a suspicious yet hopeful look that made Tomik feel a dark sort of satisfaction. 

As soon as the door shut behind them Tomik was backing Zarek into a wall. He put a firm hand on his chest and slammed the man none too gently against the flat surface. The rough handling made Zarek emit a low sound that could almost be described as a moan. For some reason it only made him angrier, but who was he really angry with? Tomik took in a deep breath and unleashed his bottled up emotion.

“What in the hells did you think  _ that _ was, Zarek? I tolerate a lot from you, but you don’t have the knowledge or experience to make statements like that during delicate guild negotiations.” 

Zarek frowned and blinked reanalyzing the situation, but did not submit, instead he met Tomik’s gaze without hesitation. “It worked, didn’t it? If I didn’t speak up when I did then we’d be sitting there for another two hours insulting each other in circles.” 

“I’m an advokist, Zarek. I don’t need my slave speaking for me. Do you know how that makes me look? I have a hard enough time trying to convince people I’m someone that's even worth listening to from my own guild. When people first look at me they think the same thing you did, that I’m young, pretty, and nice. Easy to sweet talk, easy to manipulate, inexperienced, stupid.” 

Tomik gave an exasperated sigh and tried to collect himself. He readjusted his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, guiding the stray tufts back into place. 

“I don’t think of you like that,” Zarek said quietly. “I flirt with you because I flirt with every attractive person I see. Fuck all the people who rather judge you than get to know the real you. You don’t need em in your life.”

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. His eyes darted away from Tomik as he continued to speak. “But I know you, you’re thoughtful and kind. Everyone under your service would do anything for you if you asked. Not cuz you threatened them but because we like you. _ I like you. _ ”

_ No no no, please don’t. I can’t give you what you want. _

Tomik faltered, he didn’t know how to respond to such honesty. Nothing he could say seemed worthy enough to offer in consolidation. “...Zarek, please try to understand where I’m coming from.”

“How could I sit there and watch while that asshole insulted you like that?” He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “He called you a  _ dog.”  _

_ He called you a dog too, does that not bother you?  _ Tomik thought for a second that maybe Zarek was  _ used  _ to being verbally abused and that’s why he wasn’t offended for his own sake. The idea only made Tomik more upset, his throat felt tighter than a vice. He didn’t want to imagine anyone hurting the young man let alone growing a tolerance to that sort of pain.

“You didn’t need to say  _ anything. I had it under control.”  _ Tomik managed to keep his voice level, but the emotion was building up inside. “These are  _ my  _ battles to fight. I don’t need your help. I don’t need you to ‘protect’ me. I can handle myself just fine, and I’ve been doing it for decades.”

Zarek’s face faltered, his eyebrows lowering an eyes turning soft. He made to reach out for Tomik, but the contract’s barrier made it impossible. “You don’t have to fight alone, master. I’m here with you.  _ I’ve got your back.” _

_ Fuck.  _ Why did Zarek have to be so giving? All he had was his body and his mind and he offered it up freely. For someone who had next to nothing, he certainly didn’t mind throwing it away for him.  _ Was he like this with everyone? _ Deep down, Tomik knew the answer but couldn’t allow himself to think it. He couldn’t give himself a sense of hope in an unwinnable situation.

_ “Zarek,  _ please not now,” Tomik sighed. “I… I should thank you. For standing up for me.”

He grinned. “No problem. I hate the Azorius, bastards kept trying to put me in an orphanage until I…” Zarek gave a suggestive laugh. “Don’t know why they wanted me that bad, was too old for an orphanage. Probably tryin’ to get rid of me so they didn’t have to deal with me when I grew up.”

_ It’s always about sex with you. Is there a conversation that you  _ don’t  _ mention it?  _

Tomik cleared his throat, trying to ignore the naughty images in his head of what Zarek did to appease the Azorius. “It’s good that you evaded them. Most orphanages are run by Syndicate kingpins in order to train children to become enforcers. Many of the children's parents are murdered by said kingpins, and kept as ‘profit‘. Some are from slaves that forcibly had their children separated from them, or children found living on the streets. They'll spend the rest of their lives trying to pay off their parent’s debt… and then when they grow old and begin to lose their usefulness the cycle repeats itself.”

“Krokt, that’s… that’s…” Zarek made a weak sound of despair. 

“Disgusting. I love my guild, it’s my home, my family. Everything I’ve ever belonged to. But the awful traditions we grow blind to and the inhumane practices that we allow in the name of greed makes me sick.” Tomik said quietly, and not without a hint of sadness. 

_ We need to change,  _ I  _ need to change. _

_ You don't have to fight alone.  _ Did Zarek really mean that? Would he be willing to support Tomik through his little revolution?

It was too soon to begin divulging his secrets. Zarek had only been in his life for a few weeks and Tomik still hadn’t told some of his most loyal supporters about his current scheme. But… Zarek was different somehow. The time wasn’t quite yet ripe for forthcoming, but the man had proven his loyalty countless times through his servitude and honesty. He wouldn’t be an ally because he was being bribed or because his family would be thrust into renown. Zarek actually _cared, _and it was people like him that Tomik was doing all of it for in the first place. Reforms wouldn’t be affecting the aristocracy beyond more gold in their pockets and more trans-guild relation parties. As a slave Zarek would be seeing the fruits of Tomik’s ambitions directly. 

Zarek hesitantly extended a hand, stilling just above Tomik’s shoulder. His face was sorrow laced with frustration. There was something like longing in those pale green eyes.

_ He wants to… comfort me? _

Tomik covered Zarek’s hand with his own and guided downwards, pressing those thin shaking fingers into the loose fabric of his outer robes. Zarek gave a small breathy sound that made Tomik’s heart freeze. He manually curled Zarek’s hand to grip around his shoulder, since he couldn’t do it himself.

“I’m sorry.” Tomik didn’t know which fault against the man he was apologizing for. His outburst in the face of Zarek’s compassion, the denial of the feelings between them, or a general feeling of guilt for the impending hardships Zarek was bound to face at his expense. Whatever it was, it made Tomik want to pull Zarek closer and wrap him in his arms. To get some sense of physical comfort from another living being. Would it hurt for a second of self indulgence?

  
  


“I’m sorry too, Vrona. I’m sorry I’m not good at anything I’m supposed to do and I always get on your nerves and that I keep hitting on you and making you uncomfortable and that I accidentally knocked a thrull out of your window when I was trying to let some air in...” 

_ It doesn’t make me uncomfortable and that’s the problem. _

When Zarek’s eyes dared to meet his again the words seemed to fade from his mind like ashes and smoke. The boy looked very small right there with his casual garments and lack of confidence he had had just a moment ago. 

Tomik used his free hand to snake around Zarek’s slender waist, hooking him into a tight hug. With their chests pressed that close together Tomik could feel air brush against his neck as Zarek gasped in shock. The man was shivering in his hold, his body taut with tension. Then he relaxed and slowly succumbed to the embrace as much as he could with the contract restricting his movements.

“It’s okay, Zarek. I’m scared, frustrated, angry, but not at you. It’s political business, and it’s been driving me mad for years. I don’t know what to do. I should know what to do! I’m better than this. I...I don’t know what’s going to happen to me… I don’t know what's going to happen to… “

_ Us? Was there an ‘us’? _

It was so good to touch someone, to be held by someone and  _ feel _ . Zarek was an open book while Tomik was a locked vault, but he didn’t want to hide from Zarek. He wanted to spill every secret that was holding him back. He wanted to be vulnerable for once. All he needed to do was say the magic words and…

Tomik closed his eyes and whispered, “touch me.”

The effect was immediate, Zarek’s arms almost instantly found their place around Tomik’s back and  _ squeezed _ . His shaky hands were tightened into fists clutching at the fabric of Tomik’s robes. Without the contract forcing him to solely receive and stand there he was free to show Tomik everything he’d been holding back. It must have been so infuriating not being able to reach out to someone who you so desperately wanted to.

Zarek’s nose was pressed into Tomik’s shoulder, his head leaning against Tomik’s own, his stubble tickling his skin. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Tomik’s breath hitched in his throat and his eyes threatened to spill over. He hadn’t known how much he’d been missing out on until it was right in front of him. This intimacy, this sensation of safety and warmth in the arms of another person—it was too much for Tomik to handle. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t hold back the sobs overflowing from his chest. And once those were unleashed, there wasn’t any point in keeping anything else in either. The tears were coming fast and wetting the side of Zarek’s neck. He didn’t seem to mind at all, instead he only massaged soothing trails into Tomik’s back. Zarek didn’t pull away in disgust or mock Tomik for his weakness, he stayed and held him as he bared his soul.

And in the dark of an empty conference room for the first time in a long time, Tomik felt so very alive.

  
  


* * *

They made it back to the estate with ample time to prepare for the party—thanks to Zarek’s meddling. Tomik was feeling oddly motivated after everything that had happened. The walk back had been calming, the rain had let up and everything was covered in a light mist. Every couple steps Zarek’s hand would brush against his own, it was sending electricity crackling up his spine. And when Tomik turned to look at him, he found that the man was studying him with a gentle smile. 

He couldn’t contain his excitement for the night ahead. He typically didn’t enjoy parties, forced socialization over refreshments and the promise of hangovers the morning after. The nature of parties meant that Tomik usually had to stand longer than his legs would tolerate. Tonight he didn’t have to bore himself to death, he had Zarek to brighten his mood and draw everyone’s attention. Tomik was practically jumping up the grand staircase and pulling Zarek along with him to shave and be fit for his formal garments. 

Everyone was in for a shock, Tomik had a perfect outfit picked out for Zarek. It was just modest enough to be tasteful, but naughty in practice. If he was going to be the talk of the party he needed to be eye catching and unforgettable. 

After corralling him into being shaven (he always protested when anyone went at him with a straight razor) Zarek was sitting with a casual slouch before Tomik’s vanity. With them were a handful of servants with cosmetic expertise selected for this very purpose. Zarek had grown since his first day in the baths. He was at least somewhat more comfortable being pampered by the other staff—which meant he didn’t try to run away or electrocute them.

“If you really want me to leave an impression you should have me show up in my smallclothes.” 

Tomik chuckled and leaned back to watch Zarek, resting his hip against the vanity. “I’d prefer if you weren’t removed by security.”

“I’d prefer if you weren’t putting lipstick on me but I guess we can’t have everything we want, can we?” Zarek pouted and stuck out his tongue childishly.

The doors to Tomik’s chambers opened along with a herd of women carrying a rainbow variety of fabrics and accessories. Zarek turned to watch them approach, his eyes squinting in appraisal. Before this point his outfits had been very practical and comfortable. Tomik was excited to see him dressed up and painted like a woman on her wedding night… or an expensive whore. Whichever mood Zarek was feeling, likely the latter considering it was  _ Zarek. _

The servants set down the desired garments into a barely organized pile. They wasted no time pulling Zarek up to stand, the man was practically tripping over his own feet as they turned him and twisted him to judge his appearance. 

A woman put her hands on both sides of Zarek’s waist. Her middle fingers were only a few inches short of meeting in the middle. Zarek threw his arms up in surprise, his face turning pink. “By the gods, you are so skinny!”

Another lady was kneeling behind Zarek, measuring the width of his thigh. Now she could easily wrap both hands around his leg and have them touch in the middle. “What are they feeding you? Air?”

“Everything?” Zarek rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. “Master Vrona usually forces me to eat every course of the meal, even the bland stuff.”

Tomik failed to stifle a laugh, he hid his mouth behind a hand to conceal his mirth. Despite Zarek’s insistence in his adult status he still behaved so immaturely at times. “The ‘bland stuff’ is  _ good _ for you!”

An older woman tugged at the loose sleeve of Zarek’s red top. “We must take off your clothes, sir. Is that alright?”

“...Yes.”

If Tomik had taken his eyes off of the man for a span of seconds he would have missed it. That was how fast the women were at undressing Zarek, it was impressive. 

“And the undergarments too, sir.”

Zarek looked to Tomik with a hint of fear in his eyes as if he was crying for help. Tomik merely smiled and waved his servants onward.

One of the women took the fabric from the sides of Zarek’s hips and tugged them down to his ankles quick and painlessly. The main slowly stepped out of them, like he was in a nudity induced daze. Then Zarek was completely naked in a room full of women–and Tomik. He doubted the man had ever been in a similar situation before in his life. His inclination towards men had been made obvious time and time again and he even stated that he’d “tried girls once, didn’t care for them.” 

Thought it  _ was _ almost tiring hearing about how much Zarek enjoyed men and how he wanted the gardener to fuck him. Would it kill him to like men a little less? Just a pinch? The gardener wasn't even  _ that  _ good looking. Sure he had big muscular arms, sun kissed skin, and a handsome beard, but Mister Yven was distinctly average in all other matters. Tomik had no idea what groundbreakingly sexy thing Zarek saw in him. When he’d asked Zarek he had only looked at Tomik with disbelief and said “what, are you  _ blind?” _

_ “As a matter of fact…” Tomik had gestured to his glasses and smirked. _

So Tomik was not jealous, not at all, that would be ridiculous. 

First came the sheer black leggings. Zarek gracelessly stuffed himself into the tight pants that offered nothing to the imagination. His intimate parts were still very plain to see, albeit darkened by the color of the fabric. Hopping up and down Zarek shimmied and wiggled his hips as the women eased the leggings on to him. They were especially tailored to be skin tight. The fabric had enough give to allow him to move easily, but it would still be a pain to do any intense activity in. 

_ Perhaps it wasn’t a good idea for me to stay and watch. The image of Zarek shaking his ass in those leggings is never going to leave me. _

After the bottoms was a chemise blouse, designed in a feminine style for the purpose of showing off ample breasts. Zarek did not have breasts, but he did have smooth tan skin and a sharp collarbone that Tomik just wanted to-

_ No, not going there. _

The shirt’s deep neckline would teasingly rest just about Zarek’s nipples. The sleeves were loose and offshouldered with frilly accents. If he leaned forward just enough he would be baring his chest to everyone at the party. Knowing Zarek it would be how he would enter the room. 

Next came the wrap tied around Zarek’s waist. In the back the fabric fanned out behind him like a bride’s trail or a cloak. But in the front it was shorter and only resting between his legs to cover his decency. Two long slits were cut into the wrap, one for each leg to poke through. If he sat the right way his slave mark would be visible for anyone to see. And in such a dirty place, there was no way Tomik could go without using the mark to his advantage. 

Then came the hardest part… the corset. Tomik would be doing the honors himself, given that Zarek would be most comfortable being laced into it by him rather than someone he didn’t know. Tomik also expected that he would enjoy the experience  _ very  _ much.

One of the younger girls handed Tomik the corset with a smile and a bow. Zarek eyed it with a look of thinly veiled interest.

“That looks… small.”

“You don’t have breasts and your waist is  _ tiny _ , it’s not a complete corset. It’s a ‘waspie’. It’ll give you a curvy appearance with less hassle,” said the woman that was flaring out Zarek’s skirt and ridding it of any imperfections. 

Zarek winced, “This is all really complicated, why couldn’t we do the smallclothes again?” 

“Oh cheer up. It’ll be fun… for me. Maybe for you.” Tomik grinned and clapped Zarek on the shoulder. The simple touch sent the man gasping and lurching forward. 

Zarek exhaled loudly and tilted his head back, clenching his eyes shut. “Fun… yeah. What was the point of this again?” 

One of the older women cackled and said, “You’re gonna be the belle o’ the ball!” 

Tomik held him steady by his narrow waist, drawing the corset over his front and holding it closed around his back. The middle was already laced in advance the speed up the process. Still holding the corset in place, Tomik moved his body to the side of Zarek in order to see how even the leather was in the front. 

“Don’t forget to keep breathing, and tell me if it gets too tight. These aren’t supposed to be uncomfortable. 

Zarek cracked his eyes open and gave a weak nod. “...kay.”

He pulled the leather taut around Zarek’s waist sending the man into a fit of those sweet little noises that had Tomik  _ wanting  _ again. They were all very lucky that the skirt hid any of Zarek’s base desires. As he crossed the first ‘X’ into the top threading the laces through the back Zarek full on moaned.

The women gathered around them had been giggling and gossiping before, and now they were outright howling.

“Poor baby!”

“Oh he is so cute!”

“Oh my! The binding is so strong in him!”

“...w-wha?” Zarek sighed weakly.

“When Master Vrona touches you it makes you fall apart like a blushing maiden,” cackled a young girl holding a container of cosmetics. The women around her nodded in agreement. However they instantly fell silent when Tomik shot them a warning glare. He didn’t much enjoy anyone else teasing Zarek, especially after what happened at the meeting earlier that day.

Tomik ran a soothing hand along Zarek’s side. “Everything feel fine?”

“Y-yes. All good. Just a bit dizzy and well… “ Zarek coughed awkwardly. “You know.”

“You are insatiable,” Tomik groaned and got back to his task. Once he returned to the process of tightening the corset and lacing it was simple muscle memory. Over before he knew it, he had plenty of experience with the method considering he often laced himself or watched as Ms.Hannor had done it to him. It was also exceptionally hard to focus on anything else with Zarek making all those noises.

He tied the remaining length of string into a small bow and tucked it underneath the corset to prevent anyone coming up behind Zarek and undoing all the work he’d done. He doubted that the more daring oligarchs would be sensible enough to keep their wandering hands away from Zarek. It was painfully obvious that many of the elite never had to be told no before.

“It’s laced all the way, does it feel fine? If it’s too much I can loosen it.”

“It’s fine,” Zarek nodded slowly. 

No matter his reservations, the sight of the man dressed like this was doing things to Tomik. He was falling for the trap he himself had set. He placed his hands on Zarek’s hips, sliding a less than modest touch over the man’s brand new curves. He leaned in close pressing against Zarek’s back and sighing into his ear. “You should see yourself. You look like a whore.”

Zarek inhaled sharply, his trembling hands coming to rest over Tomik’s. “Of course, master.” 

Tomik turned him around, pushing him forward through the hold he had on Zarek’s waist. As they approached the vanity Tomik watched Zarek’s face go from a heady lust to complete shock. Their eyes met in the reflection of the mirror for one intense moment, breaking as quickly as it started when Zarek looked away and coughed, “I’ve never… worn clothes this nice before.”

“There will plenty more for you in the future. Anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“Anything I want? Really?” Zarek gave a wry smirk and once again met Tomik’s eyes in the mirror. The innuendo was not lost on him, but it was once again too far into a territory that Tomik wasn’t supposed to be treading in at all.

“Not everything, I suppose.”

He stepped away suddenly like Zarek’s hips were hot coals and his touch burned. His footsteps were loud and seemed to echo inside his skull as he moved further and further away from what he really wanted. Tomik settled against one of the massive ornate posts of his king sized bed and beckoned his servants forward. They had the decency to pretend to act like they hadn’t seen any lewd behavior over the past few minutes. “The rest of the accessories and cosmetics if we may, ladies.”

A decorative string of gold Orzhov coins jingled as it was strung over Zarek’s curves along with a deep purple fabric sash that matched Tomik’s own. A heavy gold choker was fastened tightly around Zarek’s neck. Collars were almost exclusively worn by oligarchs as a brazen symbol of power and wealth. A slave adorned with one such as Zarek was, was a clear statement of disobedience to anyone who spoke the language of Orzhovan etiquette. Which meant that Zarek was next to oblivious while everyone else would be properly scandalized. 

It was a message, loud and clear. They wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off of Zarek because of his promiscuous attire, but by doing so they would see the rebellion all over him.

Zarek clenched his eyes shut as one of the ladies angrily fussed over his eyeliner. “No! Stay still, don’t breathe. Good boy, stay!” 

“Now I really look like a whore,” Zarek grumbled in annoyance as his cheekbones were painted with rouge and his eyelids with kohl. His lips were lined with red lipstick that was only a shade darker than his natural color. Everything coming together to draw attention to the natural details of his handsome face without overwhelming them.

Another woman stood behind with hands full of hair products, working a fruity scented mousse into Zarek’s dark locks. She artfully tousled and teased his hair, draping it around his face and allowing it to just barely fall into his eyes. Zarek rarely wore his hair down, usually he slicked it back and held it in place with a staticy frizz. Tomik found that he enjoyed both, but seeing his soft messy hair flopping against his cheekbones and brow made his heart swell. 

Whenever Zarek was caught with his hair down he tended to stick his bangs behind his ears in order to keep them from dangling in his eyes. Sometimes he stuck it up in a tiny ponytail that just barely stayed in place by some unseen magic. Any excitement sent the tips of his hair curling upwards with a jolt of electricity. 

Tomik didn’t know when he started to pay such close attention to the subtleties of Zarek’s hair.

Once the women were done dolling Zarek to perfection they gathered their things and bowed once again, their knees dropping and their temples pressing against floor. As they left the master bedroom laughing and gossiping to each other Zarek’s eyes met Tomik’s curiously. 

“You know you’re going to have to bow at the party, Zarek. You seem to be confused by how it works, did Lady Varla not teach you?”

Zarek stood from the cushioned seat he has been stuck in for the past thirty minutes. The beauty artists were painfully thorough in their craft. Zarek hesitantly stretched out his limbs and gave a relieved groan. “Oh, she taught me. I have  _ plenty _ of experience with getting on my knees. I don’t need any extra practice.”

“ _ Zarek,”  _ Tomik eyed the man in disapproval. “Could you even bow in that outfit? The heels may be difficult.”

“Do you want a demonstration, master?” Zarek cooed and flared out his skirt as if he were performing a curtsy. Tomik failed to stop himself from staring at his sinful figure.

“No.” Tomik didn’t know what he would do if he saw Zarek kneeling this close to him in the privacy of his chambers. Instead, he changed the subject to more serious matters. “If anyone gives you any trouble tonight, tell me. Knowing you, I doubt you’ll stay close to me for the entire night. Oligarchs like to touch anything that’s pretty.”

Zarek strutted closer, his heels clicking against the floor as his skirt swayed with every step. He leaned in close, angling his chin up defiantly and pressing Tomik flat against the bed post. Tomik naturally brought his hands up to rest on those slim hips. Zarek smirked and whispered, “is that why you can’t keep your hands off of me?” 

_ Dammit, now that I gave him the right to touch me he’s beating me at my own game.  _ Tomik sighed and pulled him in closer, their bodies touching in all the right places. It was a lusty echo of their tearful embrace a few hours prior. “I hope you don’t do this to everyone tonight. Your makeup will smudge.”

Zarek tilted his head forward and released a delightful peel of laughter. “I don’t kiss the people I fuck.”

Hips ground together, only a thin cloth was keeping Zarek’s modesty intact as he rut against Tomik’s thigh. His hands lowered, sinking into the soft swell of Zarek’s ass. The man moaned and purred into his ear, clearly pleased by the attention he was getting.

Tomik wanted to take those red painted lips for his own, to topple Zarek onto his mattress and make a mess of all the work the ladies had done to dress him pretty. They could keep all the clothes on, all he had to do was shimey those tight leggings down over his ass and bend him over-

_ No.  _

With a defeated sigh Tomik pushed Zarek away, the man stumbled backwards on his heels and gave him a look of disappointment. Rejection was a common theme between them at this point, Tomik was growing used to the sting of regret. 

Zarek flopped down onto the silk bed sheets with an annoyed growl. His cherry lips formed a pout as he muttered, “when are you going to give up on this act?”

“I can’t,” Tomik removed his glasses in order to tiredly rub at his face. Maybe it would wipe the conversation from his mind as well. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I just… there's too much at stake for me to throw it away for a messy tumble.”

“How are you throwing anything away? It’s just sex, Vrona. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Zarek made himself comfortable among the whorls of fabric resting on Tomik’s bed. His legs were spread unashamedly wide, the stripe of cloth covering his modesty was thrown to one side revealing all of the creamy skin of his inner thigh. The mark was staring back at him mockingly, the claim upon Zarek’s body in gold writing shimmered under the sheer stockings.

Tomik exhaled shakily and placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose. “I can’t give you what you want.” The words felt weak leaving his tongue, a poor excuse for the turmoil in his heart.

“What  _ you want _ , what I want. It’s the same thing. You stake this claim on me,” he reached between his legs and touched the slave mark. “...and then you don’t even fuck me. Krokt, what am I supposed to think when you look at me like you want to devour me, can’t stop touching me. I'm so tired of it.” Zarek’s shoulders rose, his body was tense and his words were full of bitterness.

“I’m sorry.” Tomik backed away, the idea of facing the source of his shame was suddenly too much to bear. His throat was tight and his legs felt weak, when he finally choked out his words they were quiet and wavering. “You’re right… what I’ve been doing is wrong. I hurt you. I didn’t want to lead you on and I never should have taken what wasn’t mine in the first place. In light of this I’m revoking my order… you may lie with anyone you please.”

Zarek sat up abruptly, a crack of electricity darting off of him, his stare was charged with energy as fierce as the storm in his heart. “You don’t get it! Why don’t you understand? I don’t want anyone else-“

“Don’t. Zarek, stop,” Tomik pleaded.

“ _ I want you _ ,” he said softly, barely above a whisper. It bore all the pain and pent up frustration that the both of them had been feeling the past couple weeks. The corners of his eyes were wet and threatening to spill over.

_ Is this how it feels to break someone’s heart? _

Tomik turned towards the massive doors of his chambers with a stifled sob, his eyes clenched shut. He didn’t want to see how badly he was hurting Zarek. He wasn’t brave enough to face him anymore. “I can’t give you what you want. There can’t be anything between us. Not now, not ever.” 

It was final, direct, with no room for arguments or false hopes. The words felt like glass, they cut up his insides when he forced them out.

Then his legs carried him far, far away out into the hall as Zarek scrambled to his feet in an attempt to stop him. He heard him cry out and heels clicking frantically, whatever it was he tried to say Tomik didn’t listen. He couldn’t turn back now, he was on autopilot.

Just like that night… 

_ Keep moving, don’t look back. Tomik, look at me, we’re going to be okay. You’re going to be okay. We’re going to make it. Tomik, please!  _

_ I can’t… I’m sorry, my lady. I can’t move.  _

_ He felt wet, _ drip drip drip  _ dripping from the space where his arm should be. I can’t feel my legs... _ why can’t I feel my legs?  _ Thousands of tiny jaws ripped and tore at him, he tried to fight back. His shields failed and he resorted to using his own body. He tried to save her…  _

_ Her hands were soaked with his blood, it was slicked across the street in a macabre trail of gore. His boots were gone, his robes painted crimson. He couldn’t look at his legs without his stomach curling. There was  _ nothing  _ left of them.  _

_ He saved her. _

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
